Ollie
by Sebastian Sebastian
Summary: Twenty years after the destruction of Sunnydale, Oliver Morgan is a run-of-the-mill teen with an extraordinary family. His adoptive mother is the slayer, his aunt is a powerful witch, and his sister is a vapid beauty queen. However, after a tragedy destroys the safe-haven of their hometown, Oliver is going to have to face the fact he might not be so average after all.
1. Chapter 1: Something Quite Terrible

Author's Note: This fanfic deals with some sexuality/male-to-male relationships. The first half is written in the perspective of an OC. If this is not your thing, please do not read. This story is rated T for strong instances of violence, and graphic, gory details. I do not own Buffy The Vampire Slayer. I just think it's a fun show. Thanks, Sebastian Sebastian!

* * *

**Ollie**

**By Sebastian Sebastian**

* * *

**ACT I**

* * *

**Chapter One**

**Something Quite Terrible**

* * *

**Everything was hazy.**

My eyes fluttered open and the side of my cheek was planted to the wood floor, a small puddle of drool forming next to my agape mouth. I was having trouble breathing and my ears were ringing from the horrible sounds roaring around me. _Hiss. Crash. Rumble. Pop._ Weakly, I pushed myself up, feeling like hacking up a lung. A thick veil of smoke engulfed me. _This place is on fire._ I squinted. Everything was slightly blurry. I tried to sooth my throbbing head by rubbing it, and I cringed when my slight touch inflicted more pain. The side of my face was wet, my hand drenched in blood. _Was it all mine?_ I was in shock. My heart felt as if it had stopped beating, somehow detached itself from my chest, and I was about to vomit it up.

I was still piecing together the events. _I was pushed; I fell back and hit my head. Was there a stampede? _The raging fire stung my face, while something fetid lingered in my nose. _What was that?_ I felt sick. I could taste sweat and copper on my lips, my wounds burned from mixing with my salty perspiration, but I ignored the feeling. _Adrenaline. _I thought I heard a few muffled cries through the dancing flames. Then, like the warming flicker of a cold light bulb, I started to remember the tragedy. Someone was missing.

_I'm still in the high school, aren't I?_

It was the gymnasium. The fire boomed and whistled, things were crumbling and cracking. I was on high-alert- I needed to get out, but I remembered I was searching for _someone_. _Where'd they go? _

From the ceiling, a metal beam fell. I stumbled back, barely missing the jagged edges of the heavy steel that crashed where I was once standing.

I thought I heard a cry again, they were saying something—_are they calling my name?_

This time I yelled back, "Hello? Is there somebody there? I need help." I coughed again. I felt my lungs exploding under my ribs. I inhaled too much smoke.

I felt my way along the bumpy concrete wall. There was a mural of a giant cartoon bee painted above me. He was wearing a maroon T-shirt with white lettering that read SPRINGTOWN'S KILLER BEES, sporting a devilish grin, his stinger positioned in such a way that it looked like he were going to attack whoever glanced at him. _Please don't let this be the last piece of artwork I ever see._ The cheap paint at the bottom of the mural started to curl upwards, browning into ash. The wall was almost too hot to touch; the inside of gym had become a furnace.

I bumped into an overturned table; my eyes focusing on the broken glass, melted plastic cups and scattered napkins that littered the floor. In between the shards were dark splotches; remnants of evaporated red dye number forty on the ground. _They were serving_ _Cherry_ _Punch at prom._ I looked down at my clothes, realizing I was wearing a silly powder blue suit stained rouge. Things were slowly coming back to me.

I tripped. I crashed down hard, my hands landing on something slimy, lumpy and sticky to the touch. It gave off an acrid aroma that I could only compare to burnt beef in a frying pan. My eyes adjusted quickly and I screamed.

It was a _body_.

I rolled off, the sticky flesh tearing from the cadaver, exposing bone, and sticking to my hand. Blood oozed out like a rare steak. Something churned in my stomach and I dry heaved.

I moved back against the wall, cowering, finally realizing how unsafe I really was. I was crying. My brain told my limbs to keep moving, but I was frozen. I could hear another metal beam fall close by. Sparks mimicked a miniature Fourth of July. The fire was growing and I was trapped.

"HELP ME," I screamed, my voice cracking and shrill. The smoke got too thick, and I was crawling on all fours, suddenly noticing the corpses that were strewn about on the floor.

_Bones, entrails_…o_h...my...god..._ _there are dead bodies_ _everywhere_. "I'M ALIVE. PLEASE, SOMEONE HELP ME."

I stopped. A figure was suddenly revealed in the smoke ahead of me. It was an animal, larger than anything I had seen in a _National Geographic_. It just stood there, in the middle of a fire, acting _casual_, disregarding its surroundings. _Was it stretching?_ It opened its eyes. _Massive. Yellow. Glowing._ Its slit-like pupils contracted. I could feel the magnetism of its gaze. I felt my bowls loosen- I really hoped I hadn't soiled myself.

The figure started towards me, gliding through the chaos. _Floating._ I pushed myself back, trying my hardest to stay as far away from whatever-the-hell-it-was as I could. I could hear my staggering breath, as I grunted and whined with every movement. I looked at my feet, which were involuntarily kicking to help me escape, barely noticing the state of my sneakers. _Were my shoes red or were they drenched with blood? _

The beast was on top of me, and I was too shaken to scream. I could fully see what it was- an ebony lion about roughly the size of an elephant. Blood and warm foam dripped from its snout onto my arm. Its mane was made of thick and swirling gray smoke, little streaks of white light flashing in between the puffs like lightening. Its torso was whole, intact, with fur blacker than the darkest night, _except where bits of human flesh littered its demonic purity._ It had no legs, only wisps of smoke where its powerful legs would be. _Is it disappearing?_

It growled at me in a low rumble, something locked between its powerful jaws. It opened its mighty orifice, dropping a round, bloodied object into my lap. Petrified, I pushed the ball off, almost instinctively, wanting to remain ignorant to its identity. _That ball felt uncomfortably familiar- squishy and warm._ _What was that? What did I just touch?_ _Was that hair? _I took my eye off of the beast, glancing down at the mangled gift that lay next to me. Tears started streaming from my eyes, my mouth widened to scream, but no sound would come out. If I hadn't soiled myself before…

It was a head.

"_Jack."_ I whispered, remembering who I was looking for.

…_And I had just found him. _

The lion growled again, but this time it wasn't a growl. It spoke- Its voice low, gruff, and _dead_, shaking the very core of me.

"Contritio de lumine," it said.

_What?_ It opened its cavernous mouth again and roared, deafening me- showing me its razor sharp teeth. I thought I might die one of two ways: It would swallow me in one gulp- slide me right down its throat like I were an Advil; or it could rip me to shreds, savoring every morsel of my rare flesh. I took in the beast's rancid hot breath, flecks of saliva slapping my face, my hair the only thing unafraid to move in the encounter. It crouched, slowly moving in on me like I were a lame gazelle.

"No," I whimpered raising my hands stupidly as a protective barrier between the beast and my face. _Why do people do that? As if their hands are made of tungsten._ I turned my head away; perfectly aware I was about to meet my fate. I closed my eyes, praying to feel little pain. It was time to start counting down the seconds I had left until I met complete darkness.


	2. Chapter 2: Wheat-Flakes

**Author's Note:** This story is rated T and deals with some sexuality/male-to-male relationships. If this is not your thing please DO NOT read this. I do not own Buffy The Vampire Slayer, I just think it's a fun show, and I feel like this is a great way to practice writing. Don't sue me. Thanks for the support guys, Sebastian Sebastian!

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**Chapter Two**

**Wheat-Flakes**

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_16 HOURS EARLIER_

**I pretended to be asleep perfectly aware that he was watching me**, tactfully straddling my torso as he buttoned up his shirt to hide a few tufts of his chest hair. I heard the bed squeak as he leaned in, his lips pressing eagerly up against mine. I tasted toothpaste. _Colgate, Winter fresh. He must've used my toothbrush._ Normally, if I had really been asleep, I would've screamed hysterically as the element of surprise and nice gestures never go hand-in-hand with me. But this time I was ready, awakening to his warm chestnut eyes. He was partially dressed; his jeans undone and sagged, revealing white boxer briefs. I was still in bed, a thin layer of charcoal gray cloth covering my naked body. It was much too hot these beginning days of summer to be wrapped up in a heavy cotton blanket.

"Morning," he said, trying his hardest to be seductive.

I smiled, offering a small wave. _Don't say a word, you have morning breath._ I glanced out the window surprised to see it was still dark out.

"Jack," I yawned, rubbed the rheum from my eyes, then, realizing I had spoken, covered my mouth. "What time is it?"

"Five."

"Why are you up this early?" I groaned.

"_Because_," he said, his voice was gravelly. "My old man wakes up at six every morning to make coffee and smoke a cigarette outside. So, if I sneak back to my house and get in bed before the alarm goes off, I can pretend that I was home all night sleeping peacefully in my own bed."

I laughed, "That's clever."

"I try _sometimes_," he joked, his index finger circling my own almost non-existent chest hair.

"Wait, have you done this before?" I sat up, pushing him softly so he rolled off of me. I could feel the insecurity, neurotic concern and guilt splashing around in my body, colliding to give me a massive stomachache.

"Not _this_, exactly," Jack looked slightly insulted, but he kept his cool demeanor. He usually did. "But I've snuck out to go to parties and stuff."

"Oh," I looked down as he slid off the bed, and stood up to finish the process of buttoning his pants. The bed grunted, a little relieved from the weight of both of us. I reluctantly peered up at him, took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry I didn't, _you_ _know_, go all the way."

He was fumbling around with his shoes.

"Don't worry about it, Ollie," he grunted.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked.

"No," he smiled. He had an unusually kind smile when he wanted to. _Maybe you find it more pleasant because he hardly ever shows any emotion. _"We did pretty much everything but that _thing_ you're referring to, and I'm ok with that. I had fun…didn't you?"

"Fun? Uh…I…yeah. _Sure_." I whispered scratching my head. "I'm just really sorry."

"We'll have plenty of time to try again when you are," He stretched his arms and yawned. His shirt crept up just enough to reveal a teasing amount of his muscular-varsity-team body. He bit his lip and looked at me a certain way that made my heart beat a little faster. "_Ready_, I mean."

I blushed, trying my best to avoid eye contact so I wouldn't start smiling like an idiot. _God, you're so hot._ I couldn't help myself.

"Am I going to see you tonight?" I instantly cursed myself for asking.

His demeanor turned uncomfortable, glancing over at me partially annoyed, his smile fading, "I'll be there...but, uh, I'll be busy."

"I know," I said timidly.

Things went silent for a beat. I looked at the clock. _Five fifteen._

"I think you're great, I really do. It's just really difficult, you know, this situation, it's, uh, it's just really…I don't know how to deal with it." Jack tied back his shaggy hair. He needed a haircut _bad, _and if not for aesthetics,it'd certainly make it easier to climb out of windows.

"Ok..."

"And I don't think you trust me," he watched himself draw circles into the carpet with his foot.

_You're right. I don't trust you. How can I? Mom always says you should never trust someone who has a secret. That means you really can't trust anyone._

"I…" I started, but I couldn't finish.

_Some people hide their desires by clearing the Internet history on their laptops; they hide their weird kinky fetish toys in duffle bags under their beds._ _We all have something to hide and most of us will do anything to keep some things very…"duffle bagged."_

"I didn't get to ask you…how is the band_?"_ I asked, trying my best to change the subject. On top of being a football player for the Springtown Killer Bees, Jack was also the lead singer and guitarist of his Christian garage band, _Holy Holy! _

_"Why would he hook up with you? You're invisible,"_ one might say. The truth was we lived in a small town...our relationship was purely convenient. At least I thought so.

"Fine," he perked up, welcoming the change. "We're playing at a church thing next Friday night if you want to…" he stopped abruptly, losing the excitement that rang in his voice. "I'm sorry, I think it's best if you didn't come."

_I guess you forgot I'm a social pariah._

"_Yeah_," I said awkwardly.

Jack opened my bedroom window, looking longingly out to his escape route on the roof. An unseasonably warm breeze ushered in the smell of wet grass, as the hum of the Central Air Conditioner below wished us a good morning. I lay in bed, my back against the headboard, and my admiration of his presence bittersweet.

"Maybe this isn't a good idea," I finally said, turning my attention to a loose thread on the bed sheet.

"What?"

"Maybe what we're doing isn't a good idea," I couldn't control my tongue anymore. "I don't trust you, Jack, but I like you. I like you a lot. In a perfect world, after the school year is over, after summer, you'll go off to college and be less _afraid_ and we can, like, date. But, long distance relationships never work and when you go away to school- you're going to meet a thousand people- _good-looking_ people. Someone not so awkward, funnier, good at sports, and probably much more willing to have _sex_…you're going to forget about me, and I hate that feeling. As it stands now, we have this weirdly Area-51 relationship, Jack."

"Area-51 relationship?" he asked.

"Yeah, It's _confidential_."

"_Oh_." He didn't think it was very clever and looked out the window again. "You really think I don't have any feelings for you, _don't_ you?"

"_No_…I…I mean, yes. I think you _like_ me, but…"

"Oliver…" Jack focused his saddened eyes on me.

I returned his stare, trying to force my face to show no emotion, but I'm sure it showed my uncertainty.

"I wish I could take you," he said.

"What?"

"I wish I could take you," he repeated.

"To your house?" I asked. "You have your younger brothers and I don't know if I could handle sneaking in—"

"To prom, _idiot_," he laughed at me a little. "In a perfect world you'd be my first choice."

_Huh?_ I just stared at him, unsure of what to say—his words were the high school equivalent to someone asking you to get married in _Massachusetts_. I was thinking about telling him that he should climb back in bed, and I'd officially do _everything_. But I knew I would regret that decision and my teenaged impulses had already gotten enough rebellion points for a long while. Sneaking a boy into my room was new territory for me. My sister might do something like this but not me.

He waited for me to say something, but I didn't. I rolled out of bed, clinging to the bed sheet, wrapping it around my waist, hiding myself from him, my underwear mocking me on the floor. _That's pointless. He's already seen you naked._

"I'll talk to you later?" he asked.

I nodded, awkwardly slipping on my boxers so he wouldn't see my shame. He looked at me once more, a forced smirk on his face, and he slipped out of the window, onto the roof. I watched, slightly defeated, as he climbed down into the backyard. The sun was rising.

I sighed. I liked him a little more than I should have.

I wanted to close the window after he left, my fingers barely touching the window's sash, but I froze. In front of me, a small patch of forest lay beyond the medium-sized backyard. The pines sleepily swayed in the morning breeze. A few discarded leaves blew, scurrying from the large old oak tree that looked sad and rejected by the others. An old tire swing hung down from it, seeming happy that the wind finally gave it a reason to rock back and forth just a little after years of being unused. A dog was barking somewhere in the distance.

You know that feeling you get when you're suspicious you're not alone? Its sort of this surge of danger that "pins and needles" its way up the back of your spine, and makes the top of your head tingle like a thousand baby spiders having a creepy little dance party. There was someone_ or something _in that forest. I couldn't see them, but I _sensed_ it. I felt their eyes leering at me. I felt their _hatred _burning. The hairs on the back of my neck started to stand. Goosebumps made my skin crawl. I was mesmerized by the blackness. _Stop looking. You might see something you really don't want to._

I shut the window, and pulled down the shades.

_Am I safe now?_

* * *

**A few hours later,** I sat on a stool in the kitchen, guiltily eating a bowl of cereal, pretty positive someone would come down the stairs at any moment to inform the room what I was up to so early that morning. The sun streamed in brightly through the open blinds, reflecting off the granite island and into my face. The light whitened my mother's blond hair, as she hummed a pop song, busily fixing lunches in her _"Witch in the Kitch"_ apron. I studied her a bit. She didn't look like she was in her early forties at all. In fact, she looked almost identical to the picture Alexis kept of her in her wedding dress, smiling uncontrollably next to my father, the back of the photo read:

LOVE YOU FOREVER. OFFICER HENRY TYLER MORGAN + BUFFY ANNE SUMMERS WEDDING DAY JUNE 9, 2007.

If you asked her what was her secret, she'd tell you she exercised a lot and was careful to avoid mom-jeans-and-hair. _I_, however, thought it had something to do with her being one of the "chosen ones." I mean, think about it. In the past, none of them lived beyond the age of twenty. _Twenty_. It would only seem logical that if they lived longer, they'd age _well_. It had to be one of the perks. So, I guess, while Buffy snubs mom-jeans readily, she wears her slayer genes pretty well. _(If you play the drums, give me a rimshot, please.)_

"Good Morning, B," Alexis chirped, plopping on the stool next to me in a white tank top and her cheerleading skirt, grabbing the cereal box and pouring it into the bowl. She hadn't put on her makeup yet, and a clip was holding up her light ash brown hair. _Was she feeling ok today?_

I sat there, pivoting slightly away from her._ Would she know I slept with the quarterback? _

"I'd prefer to be called _mom_, thanks." mom knew better than to be offended.

"Well, grandfather's journals said Oliver's _real_ mom called you 'B.'"

_Why did she say that?_

"…And they said Alexis would never _read_," I quipped.

"Shut up, Oliver." Alexis gave me a dirty look, which was soon followed by the finger.

"_Alexis…_" Mom looked at her with a very motherly expression that said, _are you kidding?_

"How do you deal with two seventeen-year-olds in the same house?" I asked, looking at my mother rather concerned.

"Not _well_," she smiled at me, "but luckily for me I endure the pain with your father, Aunt Willow, and the miracle of _Pinot Grigio_."

"Why are you wearing your uniform, Alexis?" I asked. "It's prom day."

"I just want to remind everyone who to vote for, that's all," Alexis cocked her head to the side, coyly, and I rolled my eyes.

"Who knew I'd give birth to Cordelia," my mom muttered loudly to herself, emptying the dishwasher.

"Who's Cordelia?" I asked, but she ignored me.

"Where is dad?" Alexis's voice was muffled by a spoonful of cereal.

"Duty calls," Mom said, "Your dad was up early this morning for patrol. Apparently, Ms. Barker, the cat lady, said she saw a giant animal roaming around town."

"_And?_" Alexis said, "Who listens to her? She's a crazy _cat lady._"

"_How_ early did he leave, exactly?" I gulped. _Did he happen to see the boy that I…wait…did asking when he left make me sound suspicious? Oh no, that was totally suspicious. Confess now._

"_Way_ early," mom said. "I think he was out of the house by four."

_Phew._

"That _is_ early," I felt relieved. _Thank god it was too early to find out I'm a teenaged whore._

"Morning," Aunt Willow walked into the kitchen smiling and pushing up her glasses. Her hair was up in a big red bun; her long, fluffy lavender robe covered her Hello Kitty pajamas, but allowed her pink slippers pop stick out at the bottoms when she walked. She seemed to smile at me the widest, giving me a little wave. "Are you guys ready for prom?"

"I really hate this whole waiting-to-be-crowned-prom-queen thing," Alexis said. "Why can't prom be an all day thing, like, Bamboozle?"

"I can't wait to wear the tux you got me, Aunt Will," I ignored my sister.

"Aw, remember senior prom, Will?" My mother was reminiscing.

"How could I forget _Oz_?" Willow said. "He always got oddly happy whenever there was kibble around."

"I…" Mom looked at us and shook her head dismissively. "I ended up, uh, dog-walking," she clearly lied.

"And you were _late_ to prom, I remember," Aunt Willow had a toothy grin.

My mother rolled her eyes and said, "but at least I won an_ award_."

Before I could ask any questions a car honked from outside, making me jump. Alexis's phone vibrated, and after glancing at it, she hopped off the stool, grabbed her book bag, jacket, and giant purse (why would you need both?), and unclipped her hair, shaking her head to assist her locks as they gracefully slid down. She always managed to make everything glamorous.

"The weather's been weird lately, I might need my jacket," she said quickly applying shiny gloss to her pouty lips. "Anyway, that's my ride,"

"Who's the lucky senior?" I asked.

"None of your business," she rolled her eyes fixing her chest in the tank top. It was a little tight for my brotherly tastes. _Why couldn't she wear turtlenecks?_

"Who's driving the car?" Mom raised an eyebrow.

"Thomas Tuckerman," Alexis mumbled.

"Ew, Thomas _Tuckerman_?" I was disgusted.

"He's cute,"

"Yeah, if you like football player juice-heads whose nicknames are 'Milk Boy,'" I said. "Please tell me you're not going to prom with him."

"Why do they call him _that_?"Aunt Willow chimed in. "That's an awfully strange nickname to have."

"_Whatever_, Ollie," Alexis ignored the question. "Have fun riding the bus, loser." She rushed for the door, opening it quickly, while waving at a rather old looking eighteen-year-old in a brand new red convertible.

"Make sure you're coming right home after school, you have a lot to do for prom," my mother shouted at the door as it slammed shut, but no one was sure if Alexis was really listening. She hardly ever listened.

"Why do they call him 'Milk Boy?'" Aunt Willow asked again, looking at me.

"Because rumor has it that he keeps a lovely collection of lace bras in his locker."

"Oh," said Aunt Willow, looking away.

My mother suddenly looked rather worried. "_Oh…_"


	3. Chapter 3: Jack in The Box

**Author's Note:** This story is rated T for adult themes, language, strong instances of violence, and graphic, gory details. I do not own Buffy The Vampire Slayer. I just think it's a fun show. Thanks, Sebastian Sebastian!

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**Chapter Three**

**Jack in the Box**

* * *

**I had a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach** when I finally noticed the maroon and white balloons, floating around like soulless observers, making me feel claustrophobic. They were swaying, trying to escape the black ribbon that confined them, rubbing up against my arm, slapping me in the face whenever someone waltzed haphazardly by. The disco ball that was attached to the ceiling, seemed to be angrily pissing spots of white light on everyone, bitter to be denied retirement. There was a wooden pole on either side of the snack table with paper cutouts of beehives glued to the tops. _Remember, we're the_ _Springtown Killer Bees._

"Oh my _god_, this is it," Alexis whispered to me.

I glanced back at my mother who was beaming at our brother and sister bonding moment. She offered us a small wave. As one of Springtown's school guidance counselors, my mother always opted to chaperone school functions. Something about when she was in school, functions usually served as open invitations for the demon All-You-Can-Eat-Human-Buffet.

_Hi, we're a bunch of vulnerable congregating teenagers. We're supple, young, and we taste great with ketchup. Want a bite?  
_

I stood next to my sister, my anxiety heightened and my fingers crossed for the announcement. _Please let her win, she'd be so much nicer if she just won. _The junior and senior class presidents stood on the platform, both clutching onto the microphone in a passive-aggressive power struggle with each other, while a whispering gaggle of teenagers and teachers waited in perfect suspense. The principal stood quite smugly behind them, his face a tell-tale sign of a man who didn't lose his v-card until he was _way_ into his thirties. The presidents fought for a second, slightly trying to conceal their rift, ripping the manila envelope out of each other's hand, until the mousy looking junior snatched it, pushed up her thick black-rimmed glasses and said in a very tremulous voice, "And Springtown's prom queen for 2025 is…"

Alexis bit her lip nervously; her hair and makeup done perfectly, her dress was as tasteful as something in a Seventeen Magazine Prom Edition. Her cosmetic prowess was flawless, untrusting of the only salon in town. This was mainly due to the fact the mother of her horse-faced arch-nemesis, Karen Burnett, owned it. Alexis clutched on so tightly to her date's hand (who wasn't Thomas Tuckerman,) that he was wincing, and nonchalantly trying to extract his fingers from her oblivious vice-grip. She had even forcefully pulled me to her side the moment the crowd finally hushed down from the excitement of the crowned king.

…_And guess who was wearing the crown… _

I glanced at Jack who was sitting on one of the same fake thrones I had seen last year in Springtown's rendition of _Hamlet_. He was clean-shaven this time, his hair slicked back into a sophisticated coif. His eyes sparkled pleasantly under the spotlights. He was a pop-vision, like a missing member in a boy band. He clearly felt uncomfortable by the admirable crowd, and so he tipped his crown to the side of his head to inspire a few laughs, _and_ to look more like he were a pimp in a rap music video. He didn't realize how charming it made him. For a moment, he glanced around, his specter resting peacefully on his lap, and I thought our eyes met. He smiled. _Was that grin for me?_ I felt a surge of blood rush to my cheeks, as I replayed the morning's rendezvous, his taut body pressing up against mine, his soft lips exploring me, his nibbles that fell lower and lower on my body, the pleasurable electricity that went down my spinal chord when he—

_Stop it._

I adjusted my shirt collar, and cleared my throat, but I wasn't too sure if I were nervous for my sister or just uncomfortable. I really hated wearing suits. It always brought about the automatic notion that I was going to be stuck in church, or a funeral, _or_ wishing I were the legal drinking age at some doomed-to-be-a-divorcee's wedding.

But tonight was different.

The old powder blue suit was fitted perfectly to my thin frame; my tuxedo shirt added a certain amount of retro chicness to make me resemble a _certain_ celebrity formally known. My date, Chloe Wu, had matched my terrible outfit with zest. Her sparkling pink dress hung off one side- a big fluffy bow adorned her shoulder. The gown was form fitting until the bottom where it puffed out like an upside down umbrella. I thought we would be the highlight of prom, but no one seemed to notice…_me_, anyway. Chloe had disappeared a few minutes after we arrived to make out with some kid, Christopher McCormick- this weird gawky ginger that she claimed was a good kisser.

"_Alexis Morgan_," the mousy junior president finally announced the winner excitedly, the room erupted in applause. Much to my surprise, my sister pulled me in for a hug and trotted off to accept her crown like she had just won Miss America. Karen Burnett's horse-face turned sour. My mom lit up and clapped loudly. Someone popped a balloon, and for a second I thought it was a bottle of celebratory champagne.

Alexis stood beautifully on stage as the senior president placed the tiara on her head. The glare from the house-lights off her crown almost blinded me, but I didn't look away. In that light, she looked very much like Buffy- from her large green eyes, to the crinkle in her nose when she laughed. It was sweet. I almost wish I had that. I knew the Morgans were my family- I was a Morgan for as long as I could remember- but it would be nice just to _look_ like someone.

The dance music started up and after the school photographer finished flashing pictures, Alexis and Jack left the stage, running around gleefully, drunk in their newfound royalty. I stood alone by the punch bowl wishing Chloe would resurface. She was always doing _that_ to me. We'd go out to eat and she'd make out with some geeky stranger, leaving me in the restaurant alone. Then she'd come back after I'd given up and asked for the check, and she'd feel bad and pay. One time I went to the movies with her and her "friend," Steve Kohn, and they ended up missing half the movie, sitting next to me, sucking face. Chloe Wu's parents were super strict, and truth be told, the pressure kind of turned Chloe into a little bit of a slut.

_Where the hell is my prom date?_

"That was highly _unexpected_," I heard Jack say next to me.

_Was he talking to me?_

I glanced casually over at him, expecting him to be chatting with one of his "bros" and ignoring my existence, but, instead, I was pleasantly surprised to find him holding a cup of punch, standing coolly by my side. He _was _talking to me. I kept my facial expression flat to match his suave persona, "You're in a rock band, National Honor Society, and are Quarterback for the Varsity team. I don't think _anything_ is unexpected for you around these parts."

"So, you think I'm an over-privileged asshole?"

"I didn't say that," I smirked, "But _yes_."

"Your suit looks nice on you," he said, but his compliment fell upon deaf ears. Instead my attention was focused on the doubled doors that had just swung open, presenting a pokerfaced busty black woman wearing a Mardis Gras mask, in a skin-tight leather one-piece-outfit. She strutted into the gym, swiveling her hips exaggeratedly, and dragging behind her a rather heavy object that looked like a golden mace. _Scraaaaaaaaaaape_. A group of four, also masked, leather-clad men with solid bodies, who I automatically thought were male strippers, followed behind her carrying a large crate. A tall handsome and maskless man in a tweed suit who resembled James Bond soon followed them. The music shut off mid-song, and flummoxed, everyone looked around unaware of the chaos that would ensue.

The men dropped the crate in front of the stage, and in one unified motion, stood with their hands crossed, as if they were military trained and guarding a National Treasure.

_Is this a joke?_

"Excuse me," said the principal, outraged. He walked up to them wagging his finger. "How did you get past security? You can't be in here."

Without hesitation, the dominatrix grabbed him by the neck, and lifted him off the ground. _Snap._ She dropped him, discarded his dead body like she were swatting a fly. One of the gym teachers ran to the principal's rescue, but his fate was the same. The mousy, junior class president screamed at the top of her lungs and ran for the door, but was soon stopped by tweed suited James Bond. He charmingly sunk his teeth into her neck. After a few moments, he dropped her body, letting it plop to the ground like a bored child with a ball. He smiled, reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his face with.

He made a very pleased face and cooed, "Virgins." Soon the room erupted into a cacophony of screams, everyone backing up into one large cluster.

The dominatrix smirked, and slowly made her way on stage, the amber colored mace hitting every step on the way. _Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Scratchhhhhhhhhh._ She took the microphone.

"Attention class of soon-to-be-dead-children," her honeyed voice rang in my ears, "most of you won't live past tonight, so I want you to know that hope you had a good time dancing, and getting venereal diseases."

The crowd responded by confused stares.

"I'm looking for a _student _here," she said, "and if you all help me find the dipshit, we won't kill you…_er..._maybe we will. I don't care. We're not very sure who this person is, or whether they are a boy or a girl, but we _do_ know they're related to a _slayer_. Do any of you dumb little bitches know who that could be?"

The crowd whispered worriedly to each other; no one had a clue of what was really going on. _"What's a slayer?" "Oh my god, we're all going to die." "Their bodies are RIGHT THERE." "Did you see her kill the principal?" "Do you see her boobs?"_ I looked over at Alexis, who was returning my stare. "Where's mom?" she mouthed to me. I shrugged. Jack pulled me closer, protectively, as if he knew my family's secret, and I don't think either of us had time to register his actions as public affection.

The woman on stage ripped off her mask, revealing her good-looking face, rolled her eyes, and sighed, completely exasperated. "Ok, this isn't working, Flint." She spoke in her natural voice, acknowledging James Bond. "Who can we kill first? _You_ got to eat a virgin, I want one too."

"You're not going to get any virgins," I heard a familiar voice come from behind me. It was my mother.

"And who are you?" the woman raised an eyebrow.

"I think you made a wrong turn somewhere," Buffy said. "The land of Oz would really like you and its flying monkeys back."

"Oh, how _funny_," said the woman, "Kill her."

Leather-clad-stripper-number-one left the wood crate and stomped his way through the quickly parted crowd. Buffy stood there, unafraid. He swung at her, but she ducked and punched him in the groin. He stumbled back. She kicked him in the chest, and as he was stunned, she rushed over to one of the wooden poles by the snack table, snapped it like a twig and jumped at the man, who was still composing himself, plunging the wood piece into his sternum. _Dust_.

"Well, well, _well_," said the woman on stage. "Flint, it looks like we've come to the right place."

"I'm not sure if _right_ is the correct word," Buffy said, the piece of splintered wood still in her hand.

"I think it is," the woman said and waited a beat.

Buffy rolled her eyes, "Do you even know who I am?"

"Should I?" said the dominatrix, lifting an eyebrow.

"It really doesn't matter to me," Buffy said. "I'm going to kill you either way."

"_Buffy_." The dominatrix suddenly recognized the woman in front of her and gasped, looking to Flint for further direction.

_He must've been the leader. _

A hint of concern flashed over Flint's face, but soon his scowl curled into a dapper smile.

"So we're in the presence of a royalty," he spoke with a pleasant southern accent, stepping daintily over the junior class president's body and looking over his shoulder to the three men that were left with the crate. "Guys, I'd like to introduce to the oldest living slayer and the woman who started the beginning of the end for our demon kin."

Buffy squeezed the stake a little harder. "Forgive me for not bowing."

"How long has it been since the destruction of that town- what was it called, _Sunnydale_- one of the last active Hell mouths? It has to have been, at least, _twenty_ years. Time's been good to you, Ms. Summers. You don't look a day over thirty."

"Flattery will get you no where," Buffy warned. "Now, do us all a favor, sir, and please just get _out_."

"I wish I could leave, Ms. Summers, honestly, I do," Flint had the demeanor of a used car salesmen. "But see for the last twenty years, we vampire and demon-kind have been fighting a losing battle."

"I'm _sorry_," Buffy said. "Why don't you pay Sarah McLachlan, and make a sad infomercial?"

"I can see why people are so enthralled with you, Buffy Summers," he stroked his chin, his smile failing to waver "You are as pretty as a picture, and you've got some sass to you. If I still had a beating heart, it'd be yours."

"Let the kids go," Buffy said, noticing that the prom goers had somehow moved behind her, huddled into a crowd of scared children and adults.

"You were such a dumb young thing doing what you did." He said, "I bet you still have no idea what consequence came from your actions."

"I found out a way to destroy you all," Buffy responded. "I think that's a consequence I can deal with."

"Is it?" He chuckled. "I wish I had met you back then, Ms. Summers. I'm glad to be afforded such a privilege now, but something tells me you at your _finest_ was quite the treat."

"You really are a charmer, aren't you?"

"I'm a lover, not a fighter." Flint said, he nodded to the woman on stage, "Clarissa can attest to that."

"Enough flirting, Flint," Clarissa the dominatrix whined. "I've had enough of your southern charm _bullshit_. Just let me eat this bitch, Bad-Girls style, snack on some of these stupid kids and go-the-hell-home."

"Some women just aren't raised to be _ladies_," Flint winked and then bowed, "Our time may have been short, but it was really nice meeting you, Ms. Summers."

Flint turned around in a dancing motion and walked out of the double doors. Clarissa sighed. "Finally."

The men, without hesitation, started charging Buffy, but she was ready for them. She kicked number two in the face, the third in the stomach, and simultaneously plunged her makeshift stake into the fourth's chest.

_Dust. _

_That was easy. _

Number two regained his composure and went for her legs. Buffy fell backwards, and he tried to pull her towards him by her ankle. She quickly jabbed him in the face with her free heel, and with a grunt rolled backwards. She stood crooked, one of her feet bare, the missing stiletto lodged deep into Number two's once brown eye. Buffy shook off her other heel, unmoved by the man's desperate cries. His voice didn't match his herculean body _"My eye! My mother-fucking eye!"_ She was quick to put him out of his misery.

Leather-clad-stripper-number-three, the last of them, stared at the slayer with burning hatred, his hands balled into massive fists. He stood still for a bit, breathing heavily, studying his opponent. He charged her. Buffy jumped up, cartwheeling over him, using his shoulders as a vaulting table. He looked shocked for a moment, but swung around just in time for his fist to meet her face and her stake to meet his heart. She hit the ground with a heavy thud, but it was done. Number three was reduced to ashes.

Buffy breathed heavily, wiping blood from her lips. She stood up, barefoot, facing the stage. Her pants suit were ripped, her hair, which was once up in a bun, was disheveled- blond strands sticking out wildly, but she hardly seemed to notice. She was in a defensive stance.

"_Men_," Clarissa walked out from behind the microphone, and in one step, gracefully hopped onto the gymnasium floor, the mace still dragging behind her. "If they're smart, they can't be trusted. They know how to manipulate and con others to keep their greedy-chronic-masturbation-hands clean. So you pick another guy, one a little less..._smart_...and they're just _too_ dumb to live. You never seem to find one who is a perfect mixture of brawn and brains."

Buffy watched the dominatrix start to circle her. Buffy's fists were clenched. She was ready to slay.

"I don't say this to many girls," Clarissa continued, "But your fighting is impressive, and I think in another world we _might've_ been friends."

"No," Buffy said. "Your sense of style is atrocious. We'd never be able to go shopping together."

"Pants-suits are _so_ 2005," Clarissa responded. "You know what? I'm not here to judge fashion. I'm here to do a job. Of course, this isn't _exactly_ what I was expecting—I thought I'd swing by, find some pimply-faced-seventeen-year-olds and crush all their little dreams and hopes. Maybe I'd even eat a virgin or _two, but no. _The slayer has to play over-protective mother and ruin _everything_."

Without warning, Clarissa swung the mace at Buffy, who ducked just in time for it to miss her head. The rogue mace flew off, not stopping until it met some poor seventeen-year-old boy's skull. He fell down, dead.

"Instead I have to do _something_." Clarissa huffed.

Buffy, crouched low, went to kick Clarissa in the stomach. After a very impressive tussle between the two, Clarissa somehow got a hold of Buffy and threw her into the snack table, knocking her out cold, cherry punch and snacks spilling all over the floor.

Alexis ran worriedly towards Buffy, screaming _"Mommy? Mom!"_

That's when things got really out of control.

Clarissa smiled, realizing that the slayer's daughter had just revealed herself. I watched as she ran to the wooden crate, and in one powerful pull, yanked off the top planks of the crate, exposing a surplus of packing peanuts. She reached in and pulled out something. It was a stone- sleek and shiny, shaped like a pyramid, about the size of a large ring box, fitting into her palm.

I was instantly drawn to it. I swore I heard it singing, a sweet and cryptic melody. It wasn't solemn, or joyful, but there was something eerily discorded about it. I was mesmerized; unable to fully comprehend that my sister was in mortal danger.

Clarissa was almost to my sister with the rock, when I had finally come back to reality. Alexis crouched down next to my unconscious mother, fanning her and hoping Buffy would wake up and save the day. Alexis looked more and more helpless, as Clarissa charged towards her. It suddenly occurred to me that whatever the purpose of the object, it was not going to gift Alexis with puppies, unicorns and cake. I felt my protective impulses kick in. My heart was beating hard in my chest, I felt as if my voice had just dropped three octaves and certain parts of me had just received a massive _growth spurt_. I ran towards Clarissa, screaming "No," jumping and somehow, miraculously, bounded five feet into the air, my Chuck Taylor meeting Clarissa's hand so that the prism flew away into the crowd. I fell flat on my face, as the group of scared seventeen-year-olds split like the red sea, yet again, away from the flying object. My nose was bleeding.

Clarissa turned her attention on me, rather perplexed and bothered.

"You little _bastard_," she growled, directing herself over to me, her eyes widened with rage. She grabbed me by the collar, picked me up and dug her fangs deep into my neck. I felt pain and a slight tickle as she sucked on my veins like a straw. I could feel the blood leaving my shriveling body, I could feel my organs start to dry up, I was getting tired, _weak_, as if I were going to fall asleep while some woman were trying her best to give me the world's greatest hicky. _Is this what it feels like to die? _She was moaning, seemingly intoxicated by my blood.

_Thud._

Suddenly, she grunted and dropped me. I sprawled out onto the ground. I looked up to see Clarissa peering over me, her face contorted in pain. Something was sticking out of the middle of her large breasts. _Was that wood?_

"Lucky shot," she grunted, and then the dominatrix turned into dust._ Vampire confetti_.

Alexis stood behind her, holding the other wooden pole by the snack table, the beehive still attached. _Thank god for tacky decorations._

On seeing that their last threat had been killed, the traumatized students, mingled in with crying chaperones, started filing out of the doubled doors in a hurry. I stood up, feeling a little woozy. My eyes started watering at the realization that there were a few dead bodies of people I knew on the floor.

"Are you alright?" Alexis asked.

"I think so," I said. "Are you?"

She nodded. Jack ran up behind her. He looked worried. "Thank _god_ you're ok," he said and hugged me hard, uncaring that my nose was bleeding and there was wet blood on my shoulder. Alexis looked at us with a face that said, "That's weird."

"Is mom ok?" I asked.

"I'm fine," Buffy moaned, standing up. "Someone call your father."

I sighed a breath of relief. Then I spotted something out of the corner of my eye.

I instantly felt chills.

It was one of my classmates, through the passing frightened crowd, huddled over the black prism, watching it, studying it- his eyes looking rather _empty_. _Could he hear it singing too?_ He said something, as if he were talking to it. I watched him in delayed horror as he bent over to get closer, reaching out with one finger. _Closer. Closer. Closer._

"DON'T TOUCH THAT," I screamed, but it was too late.

The guy's finger caressed the shiny object, _just one little touch_, and I watched in horrified amazement as the pyramid blew up into a pillar of white flames, instantly incinerating the student. The classmates who hadn't evacuated shouted, clawing over one another, stampeding to get out. I watched my mother's eyes grow wider as she realized what had happened.

Instantly, I knew the stone's secret._ The stone required someone's soul in order to work._

"RUN, EVERYONE GET OUT," Buffy screamed, helping an older teacher up who had been pushed by a group of teenagers.

Alexis and Jack followed behind Buffy, as I stood there, hypnotized by the fire. Something gigantic was stepping out of it. _Something black. I see paws. I see hair. I see…I see…a lion. _

The beast stretched as if it had just been napping, looking around as prom-goers scurried out the doors. It didn't seem too impressed by humans and snatched a few, shaking them around like rag dolls. I looked over to my mother who raced toward the golden mace that was lying next to its singular victim. She picked it up and lunged for the beast, but the beast was much too smart and jumped back. It crouched down, ready to pounce. Buffy rolled to her feet, and realized the turmoil around. Teenagers were _dead_; the surviving few that hadn't escaped were knocking over one another like dominoes to survive. The giant lion went in for the attack, and Buffy jumped right over the beast and to the door, helping students run out.

I felt a tug on my shoulder. It was Jack.

"What the hell are you doing?" he yelled. "We have to get out of here."

I looked at him, discombobulated, registering that he was there but not understanding why. It was as if someone had placed a veil over my eyes. I was seeing an obscured reality. I was trapped between worlds. Something was _wrong _with me.

"_Combustio mortales in sancto igne,"_ I knew I was talking, but I had no idea what words were being uttered out of my open orifice.

Everything dulled and got quiet, as the creature locked eyes with mine. It stopped in its tracks. Its breath slowed as it watched me. I was hypnotized. I watched the ribs under its fur expand and contract, the muscle definition in it's legs and sides tense and relax. The beast was a beautiful specimen.

_Calm_. _Calm._ _We are one_.

I could hear Buffy and Alexis scream for me to run…but I couldn't. The lion leapt up to charge at me, running full speed, but it was as if the world had slowed down, and I could see clearly every...single...stride.

_Majestic. Such a gorgeous creature._

My eyes closed, waiting for death's peace to rush over my body. _I wanted it._

I felt a strong jolt to my side, a force giving my body propulsion, and I became aware that I was no longer balanced on my two oppressive feet. As I fell, I looked over. Everything was still going slow.

_Jack._

The powerful jaws of the beast were sweeping him up, his arms still outstretched from the push, his eyes still focused on me- almost looking apologetic.

_Goodbye, Jack. I wish I loved you._

In that moment, I screamed, but it was as if I had gone deaf. I just watched, my hands reaching, wanting so badly to save him. Then, I hit the ground head first, so hard I could feel my face bouncing off the floor-

And then everything went _black_.


	4. Chapter 4: Father Figure

**Author's Note: **This story is rated T for strong language and instances of violence. It has graphic and gory details. I do not own Buffy The Vampire Slayer. I just think it's a fun show. Let me know if you like it. Thanks, Sebastian Sebastian!

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**Father Figure  
**

* * *

**My eyes were cemented shut** like I had just reached the peak of the world's largest rollercoaster. The last I saw, there was a fire, Jack's head was laying next to me, and the beast was inching its way closer. I was going to die and I didn't need to- no, I didn't _want _to be witness to it. I just needed to _sleep_. It was then I saw the flashes of white shoot across my eyelids, a blurry Independence Day parade for the blind. I heard a loud crash, but I held my breath and my resolve not to take a look. I didn't want to see the beast's mouth, gaped-wide, salivating, and ready to devour my fragile flesh. _Why is this taking so long?_

A cool breeze brushed against my face. _This is it._ I steadied myself, ready for a violent finish, but instead found myself unprepared for the silence that met me. Everything turned cold. _Is it done?_

"_Ollie_?" I heard. "Ollie it's ok. Ollie, honey, open your eyes."

I followed the voice's instructions.

The room was dark, charred, smelling like shit. Smoke was dancing mockingly from heaps of rubble. There was a hole in the ceiling, where the pillar of fire once was, leaking in the full moon's guilty shine.

"What the-" I started, and finally noticed that Aunt Willow stood there, kneeling next to me. Her face was worn, stricken with worry. Her eyes were glassy, but she didn't want me to know. She reached out and put her shaky pale hand on my back.

"We have to get out of here," she said.

"That…that _thing_. It was going to kill me. Where did it go?" I asked.

"I sent it back to its dimension," Aunt Willow put her hand on my cheek. "Back through the portal."

"How?" I asked.

"Let's just get out of here," she spoke, trying to avoid looking at the charred bodies that were around us.

"Are mom and Alexis ok?" I asked, standing up. I still felt a little woozy.

"We're right here," I looked at Buffy who was standing by the doubled doors, that now were broken, and partially blackened by ash, one side of the door ripped off the hinges. She was holding a fire axe. Buffy hugged me, and as soon as I felt her embrace, I could feel myself crying. I could see Alexis, through blurry eyes, sticking her head partially in the door, her hair was disheveled, her tiara missing, her mascara running and lipstick smeared.

"Wait," I pulled away from my mother, wiping my eyes. My voice was wavering, "how did you get here, Aunt Willow?"

"I…" Willow looked down. "I teleported."

"How did you know?" I asked.

"Know what?"

"How did you know something was wrong?" I asked.

Willow looked at my mother. I had never seen her face so solemn and cold. A piece of the roof fell to the floor, making a loud crumbling sound. "I don't think we should stay in here."

We walked out of the gym in silence. The empty corridor echoing every defeated step. I saw the red and blue flashing lights through the glass doors, and I hoped my father was outside.

"What about the black thing the vampire was carrying?" I asked Buffy. "We have to get it."

"It's too dangerous to touch," she said.

"What if a police officer or fireman touches it? It's going to blow up _again_." I was worried, and I had no idea why. _Why was I so sure that the miniature pyramid required a soul in order to spout out its smoke-demon?_

"We'll find a way to get it before that happens," Willow said.

"It needs to consume a _soul _in order to open," I said.

Buffy, Alexis and Willow stopped, staring at me. "How could you possibly know that, Ollie?" Willow asked.

"The vampire woman had it in the palm of her hands, and nothing happened to her," I said. "Anthony Dean barely grazed it and the thing blew up. It needs a _soul_ to activate."

"That's definitely a strong possibility." Buffy said, staring at me a little suspiciously.

"Can we get one of your vampire friends?" I asked. "They can get it."

"No, they have souls," she said quickly. She hadn't talked to them since before she had kids.

"But they're _vamp_-"

We walked through the school doors and I felt overwhelmed by the lights and sirens. Police were taping off the area, while scared and ragged teenagers in formal wear stood anguished behind the yellow plastic. Ambulances were quickly rushing to the scene, and the fire department stood ready, but were scratching their heads at the fire's sudden disappearance. I felt dizzy. I searched for my father, but only found a few Coroner trucks parked away from the crowd. One of the trucks was leaving. I leaned against the brick of the school, and closed my eyes. It looked like it had been raining, the building was wet, but I didn't care. I needed everything to stop _spinning_.

"Thank god you're ok," A voice said. I didn't respond, but when I found myself caught in a boa constrictor grip of a hug, I had no choice but to react. My eyes snapped open, and I saw Chloe, hugging me as if she hadn't seen me in thirty years.

"I thought you were _dead_. I saw them come in. They killed Chris, killed him right in front of my face. We were in his truck when this weird-ass woman with all these dudes in leather started walking in. I thought it was a big joke at first. A prank. Like, seriously, people in nothing but leather? But…I…I don't know what was wrong with Chris. He, like, totally wigged out. He stopped…uh…doing what he was doing- doing _anything_, really. He got out of the car and stumbled towards them, like he were a zombie and…and he just kind of stood there in front of her. Speaking another language. I don't know what he was saying. Something about _sacra-fist-chet,_and she snapped his neck." Chloe started to cry."It was awful, Oliver, she snapped his neck, right _there_, and just continued walking like it were nothing. I called the police and I tried to call you, but my cell died."

"I'm sorry about Chris," I said. "I'm just really glad you're ok." I couldn't mutter much more than that.

Chloe hugged me again.

"No, I'm _sorry_,"she said. "I should've tried to get in there somehow…to warn _everyone_."

"No, you would've died." I could barely speak.

"You did what you should've done," I heard my mother say.

"Oliver, are you ok?" Alexis asked. "You don't look too-"

"BUFFY? ALEXIS? OLIVER?" It was a male's voice. _Daddy?_

My father was in his police uniform, his gun-holster secured to his side. He was running to us, unafraid to show his excitement. His face was unshaved, revealing a few gray whiskers. The dark circles under his eyes told me that Ms. Barker's giant cat sighting had lead to a wild-goose chase that ate up most of his day, _or maybe it had led him to the school._ He was already tired and _now _scared for his family's safety. I felt bad for him. I noticed, if I squinted, in the light of the full moon, he slightly resembled a movie star_._

"Daddy," Alexis met him a little before he got to us, and jumped into his arms.

"I was so worried," he said. "I thought I had lost you guys."

"You should know better," my mother said.

My father went to Buffy next, grabbed a hold of her tightly, then gave her a kiss. He was a little choked up. "You weren't coming out. I thought-I thought all these horrible things. I was about to go in with the firemen."

"Oh _dad_," I said weakly, "You know how we like to make an appearance."

He smiled a little and hugged me.

"Willow," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"I..." Willow started.

"I asked her to bring me the camera," Buffy lied. "My phone died."

"Yeah," Willow said. "When I got there, I was trapped."

"Hmm." My father huffed. "My phone is dead too."

I quickly fumbled around in my pocket, and pulled out a warm slab of metal. _I hope it's not broken._I pressed the green button. Nothing. _Dead._

_That's strange._

"My phone doesn't work either," I said.

"That's weird," Willow said.

My father turned to mother "Did vampires do this?"

"Yes," She said_._

"But I thought…"

"Not in front of the kids," Buffy said.

"No," I felt even weaker. "We deserve answers."

"Vampires?" Chloe asked

"I'll tell you later," I said wanting my mother to reveal what she was keeping from us. "I don't feel well enough to tell you now."

Chloe looked at me strangely, "You don't look very well either."

"Yeah, maybe I need to sit dow-"

But before I could finish the sentence, I fainted..._again_.

**When I came to,** I was in an ambulance, still parked by the school. I was very tired. I could see police officers shuffling around, shouting weird codes on their walkie-talkies, moving bodies out of the high school in black bags. My head still ached, my mouth tasted bitter. I sat up and touched my wounds. Bandages patched them up. A dorky looking EMT driver walked in front of me, smiling casually as he grabbed my hand to check my pulse. I didn't think he could be much older than me.

"Welcome back," he said to me. He turned away and shouted, "Officer Morgan, he's awake."

"Do I have brain damage or something?" I asked.

"Most likely _not_," the man chuckled. "Possibly a slight concussion. You just need to eat something, you've lost a little blood. When we are allowed to leave the perimeters, we can get a doctor to get a good look at you."

He handed me a small plastic container filled with orange juice. "Drink this."

"Why wouldn't we be allowed to leave?" I asked, opening the juice box.

"We..." the man looked at me choosing his words carefully. "We just want to make sure all students are accounted for before we transport anyone to the hospital. None of the survivors have serious injury."

_You asshole. You want to find out who is dead and who is alive before you take us all away._

"Oliver," My father appeared, resting his arm on the top of the doorway, softening his concerned face. "How are you feeling?"

"I hit my head pretty hard," I said taking a sip of the juice.

"Alexis says you saved her," he said looking down, his eyes were starting to water.

"She saved me _too_," I said.

"Oh _god_, Oliver, I don't know what I would've done if anything happened to either one of you."

"I know dad," I said.

"I don't think you do," he said.

"Have they found anyone in there?" I asked. "_Alive_, I mean."

_Did I imagine everything with Jack? Please tell me I imagined everything. _

"No, unfortunately," my father looked down, "it looks like all the survivors escaped."

I let a single tear roll down my cheek, but I wouldn't cry anymore than that. I sighed. My dad looked at me, his expression unreadable. I figured he was unsure of what he could say. "Oliver, you're ok," he said."That's all that matters."

"No," I said studying my bloody Chucks. "No one should die like that, _no one_. Not even my worst _enemy_. How could someone do that?"

"They weren't human."

"And that's why they all belong in hell," I said.

"Maybe," he said. "But that's why your mother does what she does."

"You mean, what she _did_," I corrected him. "She's retired now."

"Come on, Oliver," his voice sounded a little different. "It's in her blood. Do you honestly think a woman like that who is perfectly bred for killing would ever truly give it up? It's what her body wants to do. She craves it more than anything. More than her children, more than me, more than her job, more than _sex_."

I looked at him through tear-filled eyes. He was smiling strangely, his eyes looked vacant, like he was watching something mind-numbing in a far away land. I thought I heard the music again, and I shuttered.

"Dad?" I said.

"Poor thing, nothing ever works out for her. There was always some demon creature trying to kill everyone, and she had to rush to save the day. She never got to get a proper education, never got to really be a part of something that wasn't the bigger picture. I love your mother, I really do, Oliver, but I think her problem is…she's always taking in _strays_. She took in your Aunt Willow when Kennedy needed "space"—and that was five years ago. She took in that flea-infested cat when you and Alexis were four. But do you know what really _killed_ me? What sealed the deal for her mediocre life in hell?"

"_Dad_?" I repeated."You're scaring me."

I sat on the gurney, feeling the color flush from my body. He winked and leaned a little closer to my ear as if to tell a secret.

"It's when she took _you_ in, Oliver. After you killed your real mother. After your _real _father decided that death would be better than watching after you. She took you in, because she felt _bad_, and she damned us all in the process."

I slid back, almost falling off the bed. The person talking may have looked like my father, but it certainly wasn't him.

"You're not my _father_."

"Duh," he said. "You're adopted."

"That's not what I-"

I wasn't able to finish my sentence. Bizarre-o father grabbed a hold of my neck, squeezing as hard as he could. I was choking. I dropped my orange juice and it splattered on the asphalt. I clawed at his hands and arms, drawing blood, but nothing seemed to loosen his grip. I was kicking, knocking over the gurney I was laying in, but I soon found myself being held in the air outside the ambulance, my feet dangling a foot off the ground. I heard the EMT guy scream at the crazed officer, "HEY!" and in one quick movement, my father took out his gun with his free hand and pointed it at the man.

"Don't be a hero," he said. "Save _that_ job for me."

"SOMEONE BETTER GET OVER HERE," I heard the man say.

_Bang. _Bizarre-o father had shot the man in the leg. I could hear the victim reeling in pain on the concrete.

"Henry?" I heard my mother screaming. She must've ran to see what the commotion was about. I heard Aunt Willow speaking to the EMT driver, trying to calm him down. _Don't let Alexis see this._

"PUT DOWN THE GUN AND THE KID, MORGAN," I heard a male voice say, and then I heard the cock of a gun. "STAND DOWN, OFFICER."

"Oh _screw_ you, Gary." My father said. "You know, I never really liked you. You're fat and _ugly_, and you cheat on your wife all the time. She's better looking than _you_."

I was starting to lose consciousness.

"LET HIM GO," Gary, the voice, said.

"_Henry_…" I heard my mother say.

Things were slowly turning black. My eyeballs felt like they were going to explode, pop like over-ripe grapes. I could see my father's blurry face, turning towards me, checking in on the status of my death, and away from me, looking at the group of people who were trying to talk him down. Then, as quickly as the incident started, he looked at me, his pupils focusing a little. I knew he actually _saw_ me this time, his eyes were no longer vacant. His grip started to loosen. His face started to soften, and he started to cry.

"Oliver?" he whispered, and he let me go.

I fell to my knees, hard on the wet concrete, coughing up my guts, struggling to suck in as much oxygen as I could. I could feel the blood rushing back into my head. My neck was burning.

"Oliver," my dad said. "I'm so sorry. I-I don't know what happened. One minute I'm checking on you and the next…"

"STEP AWAY FROM THE BOY," I heard Gary say.

I couldn't speak, I couldn't breathe. I just stayed there on the ground coughing, listening to the wails of the shot EMT driver, and my dad crying. I looked up. My father was still holding the gun in the group's direction.

"Ollie?" he was hysterical. "Ollie, you have to believe I'd never hurt you."

"DON'T MAKE ME DO THIS, MORGAN," Gary screeched.

"_Gun_," I tried to say, "Put down your gun."

"I hurt my _baby_," I'm not sure why my father jumped forward. Was he trying to hear what I said, trying to hug me, and make me feel better? Had he turned crazy again?

Either way, that's what he did.

That's when I heard the gunshot, and my father collapsed on top of me.

"HENRY!"Buffy screamed.

_Daddy?_


	5. Chapter 5: Dinner Guests

**Author's Note: **This story is rated T for strong language and instances of violence. It has graphic and gory details. I do not own Buffy The Vampire Slayer. I just think it's a fun show. Comments are always welcome. Thanks, Sebastian Sebastian!

* * *

**Chapter Five**

**Dinner Guests  
**

* * *

**"We are here to remember who was lost that day.** It was a tragedy that has devastated our humble community, a darkness that will not let up, even on this sunny day…" The preacher kept talking, but I stopped listening.

I stood away from the grassy field, shaded by a tall oak tree, red-eyed, staring at the crowd, still keeping Alexis, my mother, and Aunt Willow in my vision line. I watched them, wearing black and leaning on each other for support- I watched them crying. I couldn't take standing with them anymore. I had to walk away. There were a bunch of families doing the same—wearing black, crying on each other, trying their best to be strong. _Why did watching my family make me the saddest?_

It was so nice out that day, no cloud in sight, birds flapping around and chirping loudly-all week it was supposed to be optimal weather, sunny and in the nineties. But it just didn't seem right. There was a news van parked nearby with a banner that read CHANNEL 8. A man in jeans and a T-shirt stood filming the funeral, while a female journalist in a maroon skirt suit stood by him, limply holding a microphone with one hand and fanning herself with the other on someone's grave. It was just another day at work for them. _How_ _disrespectful._

_TELEVISION HEADLINE: FUNERAL HELD FOR THE FIFTEEN FATALLY WOUNDED DURING SPRINGTOWN PROM MASSACRE_

The police officers stood behind the funeral procession in their uniforms, statuesque and stone-faced, and I couldn't help but to think my father wasn't with them, and how _unnatural_ it was to stand still like that- to deny yourself emotion.

"How you doing over here, kid?" My Uncle Xander had found me, wearing sunglasses to hide his eye patch, his hair was shaggy and a little wild, gray streaks shown sporadically throughout. His five o'clock shadow was prominent- even though I knew he had shaved that morning. He wore a wedding ring on his finger, and another on his thumb. He was a _great_ man, really, he was, but he was going through a mid-life crisis and started to look slightly like a sleazy porn director. I guess, in his defense, he was never really into fashion. _A smelly man has to be a smelly man, _he'd say. I _guess _that's what you get when you work with heterosexual men all day as a construction project manager, and your wife had such a low IQ all she's really good for is spending your money- you never have to impress _anybody_.

"I'm doing fine," I mumbled, watching a middle-aged woman cry uncontrollably. She had a four-year-old girl with her, who was sitting on the dry ground, playing with a dandelion. _She's too young to understand._

"I'm sorry I don't come out to see you guys as much," Uncle Xander said, feeling like he should console me somehow. "Things have been a bit…_busy_. Married life, you know?"

I looked at him. _Does it look like I know?_

"Yeah," he looked uncomfortably away from me and muttered, "Because a seventeen-year-old would know _all_ about these things, huh?"

"Where's Melissa, anyway?" I asked. He hadn't been married to her long enough for me to call her Aunt.

"She didn't think…" he sighed, "She just didn't think it'd be appropriate for her to come. She's back at the hotel."

"The whole town is here, what do you mean?"

"Well these situations are tough for her, Ollie," he said. "She hasn't liked funerals much since her dad died when she was very young. She says they remind her of his death."

I took a breath. I didn't understand. Who actually _liked_ funerals? _Melissa Harris is as useful as a broken condom._

"_And_ I hate wearing suits," I finally said. Uncle Xander looked at me funny. "It always reminds me of all the shitty depressing obligations people regularly congregate for- church, weddings…_funerals_. I call them '_obligations_,' because you _have_ to attend. You can't just say, 'I don't want to,' and stay in your pajamas and watch reality show reruns. You have to go to these things; you have to make an appearance. Otherwise, you're a horrible excuse for a human being. I mean, they're all _horrible_, and the worst out of all of them—God's biggest 'eff you,' would have to be _funerals_. I will never forgive Him for making the ritual of burying the dead, the most sadistic, depressing, and least sufferable of the 'obligations.' Funerals aren't just about mourning the people; it's a cold and harsh reality check. It's a reminder that none of us will live forever, and so we'd better start getting married and going to church because who the hell knows what's going to happen after we kick it… and so, I guess that's why I _hate_ wearing suits."

Uncle Xander just continued staring, his lips perched and readied to say something, but nothing was coming out. He knew exactly what I was saying, he read between the lines, figured out that I had just weirdly insulted his new wife with bitter intent, but he didn't want to respond.

"And you don't have to lie to me," I still had some resentment left. "I know the reason you don't come around much anymore is because Melissa doesn't like my mom or Aunt Willow."

"It's not like that," Xander said. He paused for a bit, sighed again and I think he closed his good eye. "These are adult issues, Oliver, and although you're very smart, I don't think you should worry yourself about them. Not right now."

I huffed. "I'm not a _child_." Then I realized how childish that made me seem and I exhaled.

"I didn't say you _were_," Uncle Xander said, he was trying not to lose patience. "You've been through a lot, Ollie. I get _it_. Things are still fresh and horrible, and what happened at that school...that...that was a _tragedy_, but you have to remember, me, your mom, Aunt Will, we've all been there. We've all seen death. It's awful and it's messy, but you _survived_…and you'll continue surviving."

"I don't feel like I will," I said.

We stopped talking. I continued looking around; my thoughts were racing like NASCAR, and my gaze instinctually stopped somewhere, but I was too lost in my head to process what I was looking at. When I came back to reality, I was staring at someone. He looked oddly familiar in the distance. _That face, I've seen you before._ I squinted and swallowed hard. There was a boy in the crowd, around my age, in a well-fitting black suit, large chestnut eyes, his brown hair gelled back the same way… and he was staring at me. _Could that really be? No, he was listed in the Newspaper as one of the victims. They found parts of him…_ I realized whom I thought it was, and my body tensed up. His facial expression slowly turned into an unholy smirk, his gaze seemed to pierce through me and I knew he had wanted me to see him. He was teasing me—screwing with my head. _Jack? That couldn't be Jack._ I wanted to scream. The chills crept from my arms to the back of my neck. _I'm imagining this. The doctor said I'd experience hallucinations and nightmares. I'm going through post traumatic stress._ _Oh god, I'm crazy._

I closed my eyes and counted. _One, two, three, four, five…_ I opened them, half expecting him to be right in front of me, giving me a horror-movie scare.

But he was _gone_.

"Are you taking the medication the doctor gave you?" Uncle Xander asked, making me jump.

"Uh, It…It makes me feel weird. I, uh, don't think I really need it," I said stumbling through every word.

"You've only been on it for a week," Uncle Xander said, "You should keep taking it, if it's what the doctor is suggesting. It'll help with the mood. Hell, I hate taking my blood pressure medication, but it's a must."

"You're old, Uncle Xander," I tried to joke, but I was too freaked out to smile.

"I know," he said.

"Uncle Xander?" I looked at him, my hands buried into my pockets, nervously trying to seem normal.

"Yeah, Ollie?"

"Are there such things as ghosts?"

* * *

**I didn't want to admit this at the time,** but I slightly wanted her to choke on mashed potatoes. At least until someone gave her the Heimlich and took her to the hospital so there'd be an excuse for her to get the hell out of our house.

"I mean, it's been a _decade_ since the gays really started to be able to get married, anyway," Melissa said getting yet another helping of the fluffy, buttery goodness. "So of course, _their_ marriages would fail, you guys are so new to the whole thing. I'm sure when Oliver's generation gets older, they'll date like regular folk, you know? Willow, you'll find someone wonderful, even at your _age_."

_Stupid comments from even dumber people._

My mother thought, since they came all this way for the funeral, that inviting them over for dinner was for the best, but Melissa was the epitome of trailer park trash. She sat there, her shirt barely covering her fake boobs, her skirt barely covering her crotch, and her false eye-lashes and defined chin made her look like she didn't _only_ have lady parts. Her hair looked nice, _sure_, she didn't have noticeable roots, _but_ if makeup were a Thanksgiving turkey, hers would be over done. _Burnt._

Everyone sat in wide-eyed silence. There was no sound of forks clinking on plates, nor anyone shifting uncomfortably in their seat.

_Yes, it's true. The situation was too uncomfortable to shift uncomfortably._

Finally Aunt Willow cleared her throat, drank a little water, and even though it visibly pained her, she said, "Thank you, Melissa. I know you mean well."

"People fall in love in the strangest ways. Right _Xandy_?" Melissa clucked, "Tell the story again."

"No, I couldn't," he said, but we all knew what that meant.

Buffy rolled her eyes, as she got up and started clearing the plates from the table, except Melissa's, clanking them together progressively louder. She was trying so hard to seem happy, but I knew she was only restraining herself. Willow, however, I could tell, was two Latin phrases away from turning Melissa into a mouse. Alexis was calming herself down by painting her nails, _again_, and I just sat there, taking in all the annoyance, absorbing it in like a super sponge. _Maybe I should take another one of the pills the doctor prescribed me._

"Well, I was in Delaware doing construction to this strip mall," he started. "And this _pretty young thing_ was the waitress at the restaurant we used to go to…"

I didn't want to hear the story again. I was irritated. I didn't care about how Uncle Xander got involved with Melissa, the Mashed Potato Slayer. I thought about prom, the vampires, and the black box, and how, when Buffy went back to figure out how to get it-it had magically disappeared. _Maybe that was for the best._ I thought about the music I thought I heard, the lion, and _Anthony Dean._ He just barely touched it. It devoured him, the fire. He didn't even have a fighting chance. _How did I even know the box needed souls? Maybe I was wrong._ I thought about my father, and how he…. the EMT man he shot—that poor man would never walk right again. Then, I thought about seeing Jack at the funeral. _No, that wasn't him. Jack's dead. _

"…And she ate more wings than me. So I'm like, 'Hey, sweet thing, where'd you put all them wings,' and she's like, 'like I'd tell you…'"

_Even if I weren't hallucinating, what did it mean that I saw him? You're losing it, Oliver. You're losing it bad. You need to take another pill._

"So then I found her lost shoe," Uncle Xander was still talking. "And I had to drive around town in this limo that I rented looking for her, so I could return the damn thing."

"Oh it was so romantic, like in a _movie_," Melissa added.

"Pretty Woman, perhaps, because you're a _whore_?" I let the words slip bite through my mouth, like a dagger, unsure if it was really me who said something so cruel.

_What the hell did I just say?_

Melissa stopped talking, and looked at me in such a way that made me feel guilty.

"_Oliver_," my mother said unimpressed.

Alexis stared in awe, and Aunt Willow looked at me quite disapprovingly.

"I'm-I'm so sorry," I said looking down. "I don't know why I said that."

Before Uncle Xander could voice his disappointment, the doorbell rang, and I jumped up from the dinner table, glad to have the distraction.

I heard my mother say, "I'm so sorry, he's been through so much recently."

I walked up to the door, still upset, and swung it open, unthinking, and got a little startled.

There was a tall rugged man at the door with very pale eyes, standing in front of another equally rugged and tall, but more intimidating, dark-skinned man with a scar on his face. He seemed to be hunched over a little bit, holding onto a walker of some sort. I couldn't tell what he was leaning on, because pale-eyes blocked my view. _He's much too young and muscular-looking for a walker._ They both looked like they tried to freshen up for this meeting; although, pale-eyes had some scruff to him, but my main concern was that they were dressed like burglars, black turtlenecks and pants. _Are they like the leather-clad-stripper-vampires?_ Pale-eyes had an unusual kindness to him, one that betrayed his rugged features, while the dark-skinned man stared at me as if he were in _The Terminator._ I stood there for a minute, wondering why these two men were standing outside our house, thinking it was too late for salesmen or Jehovah's Witnesses, and they had to have been secret agents of some sort.

"Can I help you?" I gulped.

"Yes, perhaps you can. I'm looking for a Mrs. Buffy Summers-Morgan?" Pale-eyes had a British accent. "Is this her home?"

"Yes, this is the Morgan residence," I said suspiciously.

"Oliver, is that you?" I heard another, older man who had a British accent speak from the behind pale-eyes, but I didn't see the Terminator man's lips move. "I thought that was _your_ voice I heard, but I just wasn't quite sure I had come upon the right home. The memory's not as good as it used to be, you know." The voice was coming from behind Pale-eyes. I cocked my head to the side.

The walker wasn't a _walker_ at all- it was a wheelchair. My eyes widened when a familiar older man leaned over in the seat, poking his head out from behind pale-eyes' body, and I couldn't help but to express a toothy grin.

"Grandpa," I said.


	6. Chapter 6: The Under Realm Stones

**Author's Note: **This story is rated T for strong language and instances of violence. It has graphic and gory details. I do not own Buffy The Vampire Slayer. I just think it's a fun show. Comments are always welcome. Thanks, Sebastian Sebastian!

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**The Under Realm Stones  
**

* * *

**Rupert Giles got out of his wheelchair, **as if he were slapped on the forehead by some preacher on one of those Christian healing shows and paced around the dimly lit living room, while the two rugged men in black huddled around him, as if protecting him from us. The chair was barely worn, an unused oxygen tank attached to the side and a closed leather briefcase on the grate underneath, papers stuck out sloppily from the opening. My mother came out of the kitchen with a tray of tea, handing an empty porcelain cup to each of the eager men- teabag strings dangling out of the mugs. Xander and Willow trailed behind my mother, both leaning on the doorway's frame as if there was some kind of gang standoff. Alexis and Melissa watched, as innocent bystanders, from the dining room.

"So explain to me, what's with the wheelchair? You're seventy, Giles, not one-hundred," Buffy said setting down the tray on the coffee table and then sitting on the couch very lady-like.

"I'm being followed," Giles said. "According to my sources, it seems that as of late, peculiar people have been lurking around the darkest corners of London, Buffy. They're asking questions about a certain old man that's an expert in Demonology."

"_Followed_? _Demonology_?" Melissa was alarmed from the dining room, but no one paid her any attention. "What the…"

"…And if, 'said' old man, seems to be on his last leg," Buffy finished. "No one's going to see him as a threat."

"Exactly," Giles said, the steam wafting up menacingly as he poured hot water into his teacup. "I suffer from Alzheimer's in London. That's the story, anyway."

"And these are your body guards?" Xander asked, looking at black Terminator and Pale-eyes who were also pouring tea-water into their cups. "You've gone to London, have been lying to us all these years, and are now the British Godfather, aren't you?"

"Well, no," Giles said. "Not _exactly_."

"The name's Uko," said the Terminator man, slumping down in one of the chairs, looking mean, and putting a toothpick in his mouth for intimidation purposes, I'm sure. He spoke in a thick African accent and his voice sounded more frightening than I expected it to.

"And I am Jefferson Bellington," the pale eyed man said after a sip of tea, "Uko is my employee, and Rupert is…_well_…" he looked at my grandfather awaiting his approval.

_Please do not say lover._

"Jefferson is my son," Giles broke the news.

_What?_

My mother's mouth had dropped open; everyone else in the room was too rattled to say a word. I looked at Jefferson and back at Giles. They certainly looked similar; maybe it was something with the mouth, the way grandfather's lips always seemed perched in a measure of perplex thought. Maybe it was the nose, although, Giles' was slightly crooked from the scuffs he had gotten into in his day, and Jefferson, though masculine, didn't seem like he'd harm a fly.

"You have a son?" Willow exclaimed.

"Well, no one really knew until very recently," Jefferson said. "My mother died, and in her will she told me to find him. She said he was a good man now, and was sure he'd need me somehow."

"Jefferson contacted me." Giles said. "And I'm glad he did."

"How old were you when…" Buffy avoided looking at him.

"It was during my Ripper years."

"Of _course_, Ripper years accounted for most of his transgressions," Willow whispered to Xander.

"I wouldn't have believed it, really, until that band candy incident." Xander said.

"Uko works for you?" Buffy addressed Jefferson. "What's your line of work?"

"Private investigations of sorts," Jefferson said.

"Some call us demon bounty hunters," Uko said.

"Demon-_what_?" Melissa gawked from the dining room.

"Alexis, Ollie," Mom said rolling her eyes. "Maybe you can take Melissa upstairs, and you guys play a board game or something."

"Actually," Giles interjected. "We'd like Oliver to stay."

Buffy looked at him, a little confused. Alexis obediently stood up from the table. I'd never seen her listen before. "Maybe I could show you some makeup? We could share pointers or something?"

"I…" Melissa looked at Uko, the terminator, with his stolid face and burly muscles, Jefferson in his burglary clothes, and Giles who was now sitting in his fake wheelchair, legs crossed sipping on Green tea. "I'd like that." She said and without hesitation, walked past everyone and went up the steps, Alexis following behind slightly annoyed.

"I heard about…" Giles looked at me with sad eyes, focusing on my neck.

I adjusted my T-shirt a little; wishing I could hide the faded bruises and bite marks that still lingered from the incident. My grandfather saw my movements and focused his attention back to Buffy. "I'm very sorry to hear about the incident, Oliver. Is Henry…"

"He's still in the hospital," Buffy sighed. She didn't like talking about it. "He was treated for a shot wound to the arm, and is now in the Psych ward. I don't know when he's getting out."

"Have you sat with him?" Giles asked.

Buffy paused. "Yeah," she whispered.

"Oliver, sit down please." Jefferson said, gesturing to the seat next to my mother. I was hesitant, but obeyed.

"Oliver, what do you know about your real parents?"

"My mother was Faith Lehane and she died giving birth to me," I said. "And my father was Robin Wood. He died in a car accident when I was one."

"Is that it?" Jefferson asked.

"Well, Faith was a slayer and my _mom _was her best friend. That's why after Robin died I was given to Buffy."

"And your father?" Jefferson asked.

"His mother was a slayer too. She was killed by a vampire, but I don't understand what this has to do about anything."

"In Buffy's letter to me," Giles said. "It says that it seemed like you were interacting with the beast. She said you knew things that no one would expect you to know."

I flashed a look at my mother. _She was talking about me?_

"I don't remember much about that night," I lied, turning back to Giles, slowly. "Do you know what that thing was? The thing that attacked us, I mean."

_Tell them about what the beast said to you, Oliver. Contritio de lumine._

Giles pulled out the briefcase from under the chair, and plopped it onto the coffee table. With a loud clicking noise, he opened the case, exposing a slew of papers that threatened to scatter at the wind he had just created, but he was unworried. He pulled out a thick leather-bound book; different colored paperclips marked the pages of interest. He handed it to me.

"They're called The Under Realm Stones," he said, as I opened the book to the first marker. It was highlighted. "This excerpt was taken from an Egyptian Mythology book in 1990 by historian archaeologist, Dr. Flint Hutton."

"The name sound familiar?" Uko chimed in.

"The weirdly charming southern vampire," Buffy said. "His name was Flint."

"That's our guy," Uko bellowed, smiling ever so slightly. "Was obsessed with these stones most of his adult life. Went _missing_ after he wrote the book. I'm supposing his obsession with the stones carried over in vampire form."

_Or maybe the **reason** he is a vampire is because of his obsession with the stones._

"What about the demon that came out of the stone?" Buffy asked. "Do you know what it was?"

"We're not sure," said Giles. "But we do think whatever you saw wasn't…"

"It wasn't _complete_," I finished his sentence. "When I first saw it, it had paws, and a whole body. When I saw it again, its legs were gone, they had turned into vapor."

"Right," Giles staring at me, unsure. "The rocks need a very specific source, or soul type to work properly."

"What do I have to do with any of this?" I asked slightly alarmed. "Am I the soul type or something?"

_Was I the one they were looking for?_

"Read the highlighted parts," Giles said.

I gulped and moved the pages closer to my face.

* * *

**Weaved Webs: The Personification of Ancient Gods **

**By Dr. Flint Ulysses Hutton**

**Chapter X**

**The Under Realm Stones**

…Obsidian is a hard, dark, glasslike volcanic rock formed by the rapid solidification of lava without crystallization. In ancient mythologies, the rock was considered to have magic properties. It was thought that the object could protect humans, and if worn, heal their ailments overnight.

Ancient Sumerian Hieroglyphics observe these "rocks" were forged out of such a precious materials to keep the population unmolested, or, in better terminologies, to keep trapped whatever lurked inside of the Egyptian's "under realm."

The objects may be small, roughly 3 1/8" x 2 3/4" x 2 1/4", but the tiny prisms offer a very interesting history. Spending much time with them, before he slaughtered his family and committed suicide, it is documented in the journal of French historian, Paul-Henri Clairoux that the rocks sang to him constantly. In 1830, after the German aristocrat and convicted serial killer turned himself in, Torsten Fiedler III claimed that the stones that were in his possession influenced him to kill his victims. Fiedler would be found hung in his cell days later.

According to mythologies, the stones can possess or control others to do their will. Although, they are not able to control everyone, only strip the souls from individuals with empath abilities. In other renditions it is said that the stones seek out to collect all escaped souls from the Under Realm, and when the stones are "activated" they can release a powerful soul seeker…

* * *

I put the book down, unable to read anymore. I still didn't understand.

"What does this have to do with me?" I asked. "I'm some kind of weird emotional psychic?"

"Maybe," Jefferson said, "but it's not that simple."

"What your father did," Giles added. "We think he was under the control of the one stone, Ollie. But there are _three_ stones, and only one stone's power is weak…"

"That's why he stopped," I said.

"But why would the stones want Oliver killed?" Buffy asked.

"We think the vampires were looking for Oliver that night," Jefferson said looking at me, his eyes sympathetic.

"Why?" I said. I felt as if I would vomit. "Why me? What could I have possibly done?"

"That's what we don't know," Giles said. "Oliver we're sorry to tell you this, this must be difficult."

"_Difficult_?" I said bitterly. "Knowing that fifteen people died because of _me_? My father might've been institutionalized because he has some kind of weird, unknown, psychic ability that I have too, but for some reason I'm the target? _No_, that's not _difficult_ at all."

"The thing is, Oliver," Jefferson said. "You're connected to the stone, like your father is, like the boy who…unleashed the demon, but it didn't _need_ you for something. It _wanted_ you, and you _survived_ it."

"_Survived_? Why does everyone keep saying that?" I was angry.

"If the rock was hungry for you, it would've devoured you," Uko said. Jefferson and Giles looked at him. "But you escaped it. You witnessed first hand what that stone did- what was inside of it. No one's been able to open the portal, because if they did, if they fully did, the world would be destroyed. The rocks have been inactive until recently, and we don't know why."

"You stared the beast in the face, and yet you live." Jefferson said excitedly. "This makes you very special. _How_? We do not know, but Giles will do his best figure it out, and until then, Uko and I will protect you."

I watched them for a while, still feeling my stomach twist and turn.

"So," I said. "This means you're _staying_?"

"Well, yes," Giles said. "I hope you don't mind, Buffy."

"No, we can make space," Buffy said.

I turned to my mother, my face blank.

"Do I have to share a room?" I asked.


	7. Chapter 7: Semblance of Normalcy

**Author's Note: **This story is rated T for language and instances of violence. It has graphic and gory details. I do not own Buffy The Vampire Slayer. I just think it's a fun show. Comments are always welcome. Thanks, Sebastian Sebastian**  
**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**Semblance of Normalcy**

* * *

**Every morning Uko flopped around on the floor like a dead fish**, mumbling incoherent words, between rumbling snores that resonated the walls of my bedroom. I slinked out of bed earlier than normal for a Saturday, grabbed my cell-phone, and antagonized, ripped off the headphones that protected my ears from his apnea. I wouldn't wake him up. I needed every second I could get away from the intruders who had set up camp in my home.

I stomped down the steps to find Jefferson sprawled out on the couch uncovered by his blanket, in a t-shirt and boxers, drooling and curling up with his scrunched up quilt as if he were cuddling with a stuffed animal. It was bad enough my mother and Willow decided to cramp up in a room so Giles could be comfortable, but now they'd have to come down the steps every morning to the chance of seeing Jefferson's balls.

_Me? An Empath? My ass. Empaths care about people and I just want to punch everyone in the face._

I shook my head. This was infuriating. It had been almost two months since the prom incident and nothing more had happened. No vampires, no cat-demons, no hypnotizing stones with homocidal tendencies, no _nothing_. My dad was even allowed to come home soon, and I was sure he wouldn't be too happy to see random men lying around in their boxers when he got back.

I shuffled into the kitchen, mumbling curses to myself, looking straight at the partially open pantry. _Corn Flakes. I want Corn Flakes._

"We're out of cereal," Alexis said sitting at one of the stools by the island. She was in her pajamas, holding a partially eaten piece of toast with jam, an avocado face mask drying on her face.

I jumped. "What are you doing up so early, _Elphaba_?"

"Shut up. We never have cereal anymore," Alexis slumped down in the chair, making a disappointed face.

"I can't take this," I said. "They need to get out."

"I couldn't sleep anymore," Alexis said. "Uko sounds like a jumbo jet with an exploding a nuclear bomb inside."

"You can hear him in your _room_?"

"Hell yeah," she said. "How do you share a bedroom with him?"

"It's horrible, I have to put my headphones on at night," I said, finding the loaf of bread to make toast. "I understand why they want him in my room. Mom's afraid something could try to sneak in through my window, and he's the most _grrrr argh_…But this…"

"God, this is not how I wanted to spend my summer," Alexis sighed.

"How are you doing, by the way," I asked.

"I'm ok," Alexis said. "To be honest, I feel…a little forgotten as of late, I suppose."

"I'm really sorry," I said.

"Ollie, it's not your fault," Alexis gave me a dismissive glance. "You saved my life, were bit by a vampire, almost eaten by a gigantic lion-thing, and dad tried to kill you. Of course, everyone's going to wonder if you're okay before they get to me."

"You saved my life too, let's not forget. _And_ you are Springtown's beautiful prom queen." I said.

Alexis let out a small laugh realizing the green mask was still on her face. "Thanks," she said. "But all that seems pretty moot."

"Have you heard from Thomas Tuckerman?" I asked.

"No, I think he's still freaked out by the whole 'my mother kills things' deal."

"Mm. Somehow I don't think that should be the ultimate deal breaker," I said.

"It doesn't matter," Alexis said. "He's really not that cute."

I laughed. "You need a _real_ man."

"I know about you and Jack," Alexis blurted.

I stood there, my expression stoical, not knowing what to say.

"I just wanted to say…" Alexis started. "_Sorry_."

I just stared at her. _What does one say when their sister confesses to knowing their dirty little secret?_

"I had a crush on him, you know," she said. "I mean, I never said anything about it out loud- what girl _didn't _have a crush on Jack Montemayor? He was always so quiet and brooding. He _seemed_ thoughtful and had that _hair_, and not to mention athletic. But it makes sense now. It's why he never dated any of the cheerleaders and why he would look right through _me_."

_Say something, Oliver. He saved your life. He protected you. He loved you, but you didn't love him back, did you? _

"I…"

My cell phone rang, and as it buzzed on the kitchen table, I felt relieved. I noticed the words 'Chloe' scrolled across. I looked up at Alexis who was still waiting for a reply, but instead I pressed 'Accept.'

"Chloe?" I asked still staring at my sister.

"I have a date tonight," Chloe said. "And you're coming."

"I…I can't," I sighed.

"Yes you can, Ollie," she screeched into the phone. "I already asked your mother, and she said it'd be fine."

"You spoke to my _mother_?" I said. "When?"

"_Seriously_? You've been in that house for nearly two months without coming out," she said. "Your mother practically begged me to bring you along."

"I have to study for my GED," I said, still sighing at my decision to not finish high school.

"Oliver, you're _killing_ me," Chloe groaned.

"Why would I go on your date with you, anyway?" I asked. "I'm not the third wheel type."

"Well, I miss you," she said. "And I miss…I don't know…Having a normal life before, you know…_prom_."

She stopped talking.

"Yeah," I whispered. "But I don't…it's going to be awkward. You remember the Steve Kohn debacle? I'm not doing that again…"

"Of course I remember Steve Kohn. You didn't talk to me for a week, you big baby. What if I told you this guy had a gay best friend who agreed to come along too?"

"What?"

"_Surprise_," Chloe chuckled into the phone.

"You're the worst,"

"I'm the _best_,"

"Where'd you meet your mystery guy, anyway?" I asked.

"Online."

"_Online_?"

"Yeah, on Heart-Able-Pandas-dot-com," Chloe said. "The preferred dating website of Asians in the area."

"Chloe, he could be a serial killer," I said.

"Not if he has a friend. Only one percent of the population is a sociopath, and only a smaller fraction actually kills people. There's absolutely no chance that two serial killers would become best friends," Chloe said. "We're going to the movies, anyway. It's a public place, lots of lighting. We'll be _fine_."

I sighed. I couldn't let her go on her own. "Well, I guess I could…"

"Oh my god, Ollie, you've made my day," she giggled. "I can't wait. I'll pick you up at seven. X's and O's."

She hung up.

I sighed again staring at my phone. Sometimes I questioned my friendships.

"What was that about?" Alexis asked.

I looked at her, a lightbulb going off in my head.

"Medusa, would you want to go to the movies tonight?" I said.

"Shut up, _Ollie_."

"Me and Chloe are going on a double date."

"No, Ollie." Alexis said. "I'm not a fifth wheel, and besides, I'd rather be caught dead than with you weirdos."

"Does that really matter anymore?" I asked.

Jefferson walked into the kitchen, unaware we both were there. He was still in his boxers and yawning loudly while he stretched his arms towards the ceiling. I automatically rolled my eyes as I heard the slap of his bare feet hit the ceramic floor. He moseyed past us on his way the refrigerator.

"We're out of cereal," Alexis sighed.

He turned around, and at seeing Alexis' face, let out a small yelp.

"Oh _goodmorning_," he said uncomfortably scratching his head. "I didn't happen to see you two. Alexis, there seems to be something on your face."

Alexis turned to me and sighed. "When do you want to leave?"


	8. Chapter 8: Barry White

**Author's Note: **This story is rated T for language and instances of violence. It has graphic and gory details. I do not own Buffy The Vampire Slayer. I just think it's a fun show. Comments are always welcome. Thanks, Sebastian Sebastian

* * *

**Chapter 8**

**Barry White**

* * *

**It had just finished raining when we entered the movie theater. **The smell of stale buttered popcorn, nacho cheese, and hotdogs collided with my nose. The lobby seemed to come to life with the bumbling crowd who had found shelter inside the old cinema to escape the torrential downpour. Flashing neon lights, movie posters, and cardboard cutouts of celebrities tried to entice us to their showings, adding décor to the otherwise drab gray walls.

_Max Steele in Total Eclipse II: The Perfect Eclipse; Lucy Bellure stars in The Love Life of Helen; Ian Porter and Kelly Randolph have award winning roles in Tears May Fall._

We were forced to search for our dates. I was uneasy in the commotion, and had placed my hands in my jacket pocket, thumbing around with the cool, smooth, little spray bottle that was protecting my ribcage. _Thank god, it's still there. _Even after downing a couple of pills, I was still paranoid of being attacked- scared senseless that some vampires would rush the theater to eat our dates and us. In preparation, I had emptied a small bottle of eyeglass spray, and replaced its contents with some holy water I found in a chest in our basement. It gave me a little comfort. _Vampire pepper spray. I hope it hasn't gone past the expiration date._

"Do you see them?" Alexis asked, making a face after being nearly tackled by _another_ screaming child.

"No, not yet," Chloe said.

"You know what your guy looks like?" I asked.

"Of course I do. This is the twenty-first century, _Ollie_."

I smiled, letting out a small, amused snort and let my eyes fall on _him_ again. Since we had entered the movie theater, my gaze was instantly attached to a young badass-looking guy holding a coal gray military jacket, wearing a black V-neck that showed off a series of tattoos that seemed to completely cover his chest and left arm. The tattoos were a little more than artwork- a very detailed design of bone, some muscle and ligaments, highlighting veins in red and purple colors as if he were being X-rayed. He leaned suavely against the painted cement wall by the Arcade area as if waiting for someone. _A date, perhaps?_ When he finally returned my stare, I felt smoldered by his amber eyes, I blushed and instantly wanted to fling myself behind a trashcan.

"There's _your_ date," I whispered to Alexis, nodding in his direction, my insecurity turning me into a character from _Mean Girls._

"Ew, Ollie," Alexis hissed back after taking a glimpse. "He's _scary_."

We snickered together.

"Chloe?" I heard a voice say behind us, "Chloe Wu?"

We swung around simultaneously to see _three_ tall and overly handsome guys, all dressed as if they were ripped out from an Abercrombie catalogue. _Just a little_ _too perfect. _The main guy, who I could only assume was Chloe's date, had blond hair and dark eyebrows and wasn't Asian at all, the next guy had shaggy brown hair, bright sea foam eyes and a very sweet smile, and the third was a statuesque black guy who resembled Nathan Stewart-Jarrett. I was instantly skeptical. _This is odd. _

"Oh man," said the black guy pleasantly surprised, "I thought I was going to be the _fifth_ wheel." Alexis smiled.

The blond smiled brightly, as he introduced himself to Alexis and me. "I'm Hunter Davenport," he said extending his hand, "and these are my friends Carey Matthews and Barry White."

I smiled, trying my best to swallow my skepticism, and taking Hunter's hand for the handshake. His hand was soft and very cold.

"You must be Oliver," said Carey, his green eyes fixed on me, trying to charm me, his smile looking like it was made for toothpaste commercials. "Chloe didn't mention to Hunter how cute you were."

I rolled my eyes involuntarily. _Too fucking perfect._

* * *

**"Where are you taking us?"** I asked, as we walked down the rain-kissed road away from the theater.

A warm wind seemed to slap me in the face, and I could see steam escaping from the sidewalk. The further away we got from the busy street, the more unsettled I became. _I couldn't be the only one, could I?_ Overhearing the random conversations of strangers and the cars' mechanical rumbles had comforted me in town, but now I only had the safe glow of yellow streetlights. _At least I have the streetlights._

"To the park," Hunter said, leading the group, his arm around Chloe. "It's the perfect night for a romantic stroll, no?"

The girls giggled with their dates, but I shifted uncomfortably. _After a movie you're supposed to get ice cream or do something public. Wait, I have a better idea...let's go home. _

"Alexis do you think it's too late?" I asked my sister, hoping she'd get the hint.

"No," she answered me, smiling at Barry White, captivated in their side-conversation about oldies bands from the 90s. _She has been charmed, all because he knows who Mazzy Star is._

I walked in silence next to Carey who I thought was as interesting as a nail. He said nothing of value, just stories about how he could do one thousand sit-ups and really had no problem with nudity. He wanted me to feel excited about this, but…he wasn't _Jack_. I engaged in the empty conversation, watching for puddles, shuffling my feet, kicking at wet stones, feeling guilty, thinking I had no heart because I was on a date so soon after the boy that could've _loved_ me got himself killed to save _me_- _but I'm not enjoying myself, does that count?_

"You're not having a good time with me, are you?"Carey asked disappointed.

He was reading my mind.

"No, it's not that," I quickly said feeling guiltier. "I just have a lot on my mind."

"Oh," Carey looked away from me, his hands in his pockets. "Ex-boyfriend?"

I shrugged, "You could say that, I suppose."

"Your hands are so cold," I heard Chloe giggle. Hunter said something flirtatious, but I wasn't sure what it was.

_Why is this bothering me?_

"So you're from Springtown?" Carey asked me.

I said dismissively, "yeah."

_Please don't ask this next question. I don't want to talk about this._

"It's really horrible what happened," he said. "Were you there? I mean, when it happened- did you witness it?"

_You had to ask._

"_Unfortunately_," I sighed softly, noticing that we were passing the last streetlight in the park. We could only walk under the safety of moonlight now. _No more comfort, Ollie. None what-so-ever._

"I can't believe it," Carey said. "The news said they were a gang of pyromaniacs on bathsalts."

"The news would know these things, wouldn't they?"

We were in front of the blackened pathway to the fenced-in park. Two large metal-rod gates stood open, welcoming visitors. Large metal letters formed the words SPRINGTOWN TOWERS REGIONAL PARK on top. A weeping willow leaned over the fence as if to whisper cautionary words to me. There wasn't a light in sight. I stopped at the entrance, watching Chloe and Hunter walk in without hesitation.

_No, this isn't right._

"It's way too dark," I said.

"Oh come on, Oliver," Hunter turned to me again. "There's a bunch of lights on through that grove of trees over there."

He ahead. I could see, in the distance, a small clearing, a bit of yellow illuminating a park bench. Alexis and Barry White walked ahead of Carey and I. _Why am I the only one hesitant about this? _

"Everyone's going in," Carey was being impossibly sweet. "We can't just stay here."

I took a deep breath and against my better judgement, I continued moving. I continued in silence, my hand in my coat pocket, playing with the spray bottle, hoping that would give me some peace of mind, but I still didn't feel any better. We had gotten closer to the light, and I could feel relief begin to wash over the nervousness. It was then Carey looked at me and spoke.

"Thank god Alexis' mom was there that night, at prom, huh?" he said. "That's what the news said anyway. It said that her mom has had experience with gangs before."

"Yeah."

_How'd you know Alexis' mom was Buffy? Maybe Chloe told Hunter? But if that's the case, why don't you know I'm her brother?_

"I hope they find the _surviving_ member of that gang," he said.

I didn't respond. _What?_ _There was never any mention of a "surviving member"- the news said they all "escaped."_

"I think we should go back now," I called to Alexis, trying not to alarm any suspicions. "It's getting pretty late."

"Aw c'mon," Hunter swung around and smiled at me, his arm still hanging over Chloe's shoulder rather cozily. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"It's in here _somewhere_," I said coyly pointing at my head. "But only between the hours of seven AM and eleven PM."

"Yeah, we probably should head back," Alexis said pushing away from Barry.

"We're almost there, though," Barry said, his brown eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "It's a really romantic spot."

"I'm sure, but, uhm, we have a curfew," I said, turning back in the direction of the theater.

Carey ran in front of me, blocking me from escaping.

"Stay," he said, giving his best puppy-dog-eyes and smiling seductively. He placed his hand on the back of my neck. I shuddered at how cold they were, and then, my eyes widened a little in realization of who I had been on a date with. _They're all so very cold, and somehow I don't think all three friends are anemic._

___My worst nightmare has just been realized._

"No, they're right," Chloe said, sensing the uncomfortable vibes and breaking away from Hunter. "My parents have been calling. We should really get going, guys."

"You know you don't mean _that_," Carey looked at me in a way that made my skin crawl.

"Get out of my way," I said, maneuvering my neck so his ice-cold fingers slipped away.

"You know we don't really like to hear the word _no,_" Hunter's words turned colder and his expression harsher, as he moved closer to me.

"You're _vampires_," I hadn't meant to say the truth out loud. It made things scarier.

"What?" Alexis' eyes widened, and she looked at Barry who was grinning menacingly. She ran over to me, pulling Chloe by our side.

"You're a lot smarter than I thought," Carey snickered.

"Originally we were planning on kidnapping you and your friend over there to get _her_," Hunter nodded towards Alexis, as the three men focused their attention on her. "But you gift wrapped her _so _perfectly."

"So now we can just eat you and the Asian," Carey laughed, his face a little crazed.

My stomach was in a knot. The three vampires surrounded us. Chloe screamed and tried to escape, but only ran into the arms of Barry who was visibly amused at her failed attempt. Hunter whistled, and I knew the situation could only get worse.

...and it did.

From behind the shadows of the darkest foliage emerged three figures- silhouettes in the night. When they finally stepped into the pale moonlight, it was obvious who they were— vampires in masks, wearing ill-fitting leather outfits. All of them smiling, giggling deviously and looking as if they belonged in a Gay Pride Parade.

_Then_ I saw another dark figure emerge. The obvious leader of the group, trotting along in his tweed suit, looking dominant in the moonlight, moving so smoothly it almost seemed as if he were gliding.

It was southern gentleman Flint Hutton.

He walked up to the Abercrombie cutouts, patting Hunter on the back for a job well done, and stood in front of us. His smile was as debonair as usual. Instinctually, our three hellish dates shuffled back to give him room. They were afraid of him.

Flint snapped his fingers, and Carey grabbed me, pulling me away from Alexis. I looked over and saw that Hunter had a hold of Chloe. Alexis stood there, confused, breathing heavily, unsure what to do.

I felt sick.

"I'm so glad we could have this meeting," Flint said addressing Alexis. "I didn't realize you'd look just like your mother." He reached out his hand, stroking the side of her face. Alexis shivered, tears rolling down her cheek. I tried to move, grunting the word "No," but Carey was much too strong.

Chloe started to cry.

"You're making a big mistake. You don't want my sister," I said finally giving up on trying to conjure up some kind of residual child-of-slayer-strength.

Flint raised an eyebrow.

"Your _sister_?" Hunter asked a little disturbed, holding a struggling Chloe by the shoulders. "You didn't say _anything_ about her being your sister before."

"Well, technically, I'm not _Buffy's_ biological child," I said. "I'm adopted."

"Aw. I know you'd like to feel _special _too, dear boy," Flint said speaking slow in his charming southern twang. "But I'm afraid being the rejected child of some sixteen-year-old isn't exactly what I'm looking for. I need you to be related by blood. So why don't we make a deal? Carey over here, he gets awfully lonely and I think you two would make fine _life partners_. If you stand here and keep quiet while I talk to your sister, I promise we'll make you and your Asian friend _vampires_, and you'll be young and beautiful forever. What do you say?"

I heard Carey make a sound behind my head almost like a disgusted snort and mutter, "he's not really my _type_."

_Well thanks, Carey. Screw you, too._

"But my _real_ mother," I swallowed hard and continued, closing my eyes. "She was a slayer, and so was my grandmother. So, officially, I'm more of a slayer's child than my sister, you see. You don't want her. You want _me_. I can guarantee that."

Flint looked at me, intrigued.

"Well well _well_," Flint hummed getting closer to me. "This is _very_ interesting information."

"Isn't it?" I said, watching Barry White move closer to keep an eye on Alexis, as Flint moved away.

"I guess there's only one way to find out which of you I need," Flint shrugged. "Unfortunately, we've run into a little difficulty."

"Difficulty?" I asked, shocked at my voice's ability to not waver.

"While I _have_ located two of the three rocks," he said. "It seems the one you've been acquainted with has gone missing." Flint's face got closer to me, leaning over so our faces aligned. I could smell the death that lingered about on his pallet, and I felt his cold breath brush my living skin. "And the _other_ is in transport."

_The vampires didn't have all the stones?_

"You wouldn't happen to know where the missing one is, would you?" Flint asked.

"How would we know?" I responded. "It's not like we can touch the things. We have _souls_."

"Clever boy," Flint smiled. "How did you know the stones require souls?"

I didn't say anything.

_Damnit, me and my big mouth._

"You have _help_, don't you?" Flint's eyes widened, but he didn't seem worried.

"What if we do?" I said. "You can't hurt us, you need at least one of us."

Flint stepped away from me, stroking his chin. "You're very right, Oliver. But I think you're forgetting we don't _need_ one of you. Now, If you don't tell me who's helping you," he chuckled menacingly, grabbed Chloe from Hunter, and sighing as if killing didn't come to him first nature. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to kill her."

"No," I yelped, but Flint wasn't paying attention. He sunk his teeth into Chloe's neck. She grunted as he drank, trying her hardest to fight him off, but when she learned it was useless, she stood limply in his arms, grimacing as he drank in peace. I stared at them in helpless panic.

_Say it, Oliver. It's the only way._

_"CONTRITIO DE LUMINE," _I screamed out in desperation, not really knowing trying my hardest to pull away from Carey. Somehow I was successful_._

Flint stopped. He let go of Chloe, letting her fall to the slick concrete. She grunted, reaching out her arms to break her fall. She'd lay there for a while, breathing heavily.

"Wha-What did you say?" he asked, wiping the blood from his lips and moving closer to me.

"You heard me," I said realizing I couldn't run away and leave Alexis and Chloe alone.

"_The stones_, they've spoken to you?" his voice diminished in shock. "My oh my, we've been so _wrong_ all this time. It _is_ you we're after."

"What does that phrase even mean?" I asked. I knew Carey had moved behind me, ready to grab me again. "Contritio De Lumine?"

Flint smiled again, but it was different somehow.

"Destruction of the light." He whispered inching his way closer to me yet again. His cool demeanor changed, and the look in his eye told me he was no longer living on planet Earth. "Don't worry, your mind adjusts to their language eventually. You'll hear it in plain English. When I was _human_, the stones, they would to speak to me. They told me my every move, every step I should take in order to bask in their eternal darkness. They even told me to make the ultimate sacrifice and give up my soul. I did it all _so_ willingly. They have a plan, you know, a plan that you and I could never disrupt. They will return to me. At least now, I'll be able to serve them forever."

I looked at him. _He was once like me._

"What is the light exactly?" Alexis asked. "Do you want to destroy the world or something?"

He turned to her, tilting his head sympathetically. "No," He said. "The light isn't the world—it's a person...sorta."

"A person?" I started, but there was a grunt behind me. I turned around, confused, and saw Carey's face contorted in pain and then in a wisp-_he was nothing but ash settling onto the ground._

There was a familiar man standing a little bit away, holding a crossbow in his hand. He was wearing a dark military jacket, and I could see his left hand was covered in a tattoo of bones. _It was the same guy from the theater. _

"RUN," he screamed.

I swung around, watching Flint's arms fly as he tried to grab me, but I ducked. Quickly, I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the bottle, spraying him in the face. He screamed and fell to the ground writhing in pain, his face becoming red and blistered.

The tattooed badass shot yet another arrow into the chest of Barry White, who was in mid-attack on Alexis. Hunter and the three remaining vampires ran after the badass, who was set on leading them off into the night. _They're gone._

Alexis jumped to her feet and helped me get Chloe. Flint still lay on the wet ground weeping and muttering about his face. We stumbled back towards the entrance, as fast as we could, holding Chloe up who was barely responsive. _Flint's_ _going to chase us._

"I just thought you and your family were a little crazy," she said weakly. "_vampires_ _aren't real_."

"I wish we _were_ crazy," Alexis panted, stressed with carrying the extra weight of Chloe.

I turned around, stopping Alexis and Chloe, my heart pounding. I was sure there was someone behind us, tailing us the whole way to the entrance, but there was nothing- trees being rustled by careless wind.

We were out of the park, about to cross the street when I heard tires squeal. An engine's rumble was gradually becoming louder. We stopped walking, thinking that the runaway car might run us over. The tires squealed again, this time bounding around the corner, a clearly pissed off vampire on the hood, trying to break the windshield. The car suddenly stopped. White smoke rose from the screeching tires. The vampire flew off, slamming into a streetlight. The light burst, sparks rained down, and the lamp post bent on impact.

Chloe fainted.

We stood there, listening to the car idle. It was gray, a little worn, and covered in mud. The car hummed, as the driver rolled down his window.

It was the badass.

"Get in," he barked.

I heard the vampire groaning as he was slumped over by the indented streetlight, Chloe was fainted in my arms. I could hear the footsteps of the leather-clad-vampires rushing towards us, screaming obscenities about the man in the car. _If they catch us, they'll kill Alexis and Chloe now._ I looked at Alexis who was just as hesitant as I. I had to make the decision, and I had to make it quick. I swallowed hard and took a step.

"Let's go," I said.


	9. Chapter 9: Mason

**Author's Note: **This story is rated T for language and instances of violence. It has graphic and gory details. I do not own Buffy The Vampire Slayer. I just think it's a fun show. Comments are always welcome. Thanks, Sebastian Sebastian

* * *

**Chapter 9**

**Mason**

* * *

**The black leather interior of the car smelled like smoke,** and was littered with fast food wrappers, and gas station receipts mostly for cigarettes. I shifted uncomfortably in the seat, making it yelp as I clicked my seatbelt together. _Am I safe now?_ I watched, a little panicked, as the street and green traffic lights swept by.

_Are you a friend or foe? _

The man had saved us from the vampires, but that hardly meant we had an alliance. I sat in the front seat in silence, while Alexis sat in the back, Chloe's head lolled to the side as she sat passed out next to my sister.

"You were following us," I stuttered, staring at the silent soul who was speeding down the street and shifting gears like a maniac. "At the theater."

"You're observant," he said. I couldn't tell if he were being sarcastic.

"What's your name?" my voice trembled.

"Mason," he said plainly, keeping his eye on the road, his skeleton hand on the steering wheel, the other shifting gears.

"_Mason_," I said softly. "Thank you for saving us."

"Answer me this," he showed no emotion. "Why the _hell_ would you go into a dark place with three dudes you've just met?"

"They were _cute_," Chloe groaned half- consciously from the backseat. I turned around to check on my friend.

"Are you alright, Chloe?" I asked her.

"_Vampires_," she mumbled, and then said something very incoherent. She was passed out again.

"We have to get her to a hospital," I said to Mason. "Please take us there."

"Do I look like I take orders from you?" he said.

"She's bleeding," Alexis said.

"She'll survive," Mason wouldn't look at us. "He didn't drain her enough. She's just in shock."

"Why are you helping us?" I asked.

He laughed dismissively. "I think you're asking the wrong questions."

"Well what should we ask?" Alexis yelled from the back seat, frustrated and staring at an unconscious Chloe.

"Why is it that after seventeen years of living in this town, vampires suddenly surface?"

"Do you know the answer to that?" I asked.

He was silent for a moment. He reached his hand in my direction and I quickly jerked back in my seat, afraid he was going to attack me, but he didn't. Instead he opened the glove compartment and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He rolled down his window and lit one up.

"They call themselves Bellatores Simia," he said taking a puff. "It's Latin for Warriors of the Monkey."

"Warriors of the _Monkey_?" My sister and I exchanged glances, and spoke at the same time.

"I wouldn't laugh at the name. Vampires aren't known for their religious beliefs or moral compass," he said. "So when they _do_ gather together, it's pretty twisted."

"So Flint Hutton is some kind of vampire religious leader?" I asked.

"He's their messiah, I suppose."

"He said the stones spoke to him before he was turned into a vampire," I said. "He said they'd _return_ to him. He must have lost track of them after he lost his soul."

"He did," Mason said. "Alexis, check under my seat."

Alexis rummaged around in trash, eventually pulling out a medium-sized black box made out of some kind of rocky material. She started to open it.

"No," he said sternly. "Don't open that. The box keeps us safe. At least, it keeps Oliver from turning into an idiot zombie. Egyptian priests, who have since long left this world, have enchanted it. If you open it, well, Ammit might try to return again."

Alexis set the box down, her face grossed out as if it held a steaming pile of shit in it.

"_Ammit_?" she asked. "Who the hell is that?"

"The lioness demon," Mason said. "Ammit was believed to be an Egyptian goddess from the underworld who lived near a lake of fire and feasted on the hearts of those deemed unworthy of continuing on into the afterlife. Of course, as you've witnessed, the reality is, the Egyptians weren't entirely right about her…the heart is just an _appetizer_."

"That cat thing was a god?" I was alarmed.

"Kind of." He said throwing his cigarette out the window and lighting up another one, "It was just a projection of her, a piece of a puzzle. She wasn't in full form. She needs a more… _powerful_ soul in order to do that, and even then she's only half-complete." He glanced at me for the first time during the ride.

"If the three stones combine, will that make her complete?" I asked.

"The stones combined will unleash something else, entirely." He said. "Something more powerful. Something _worshipped_ by the greatest of evils. Ammit is just an added extra."

"What is it?" I asked, my eyes growing wider, as I leaned closer to Mason, while he was driving. Something in me needed to know.

"Whatever it is, the world will _end_," he said. We stopped at a red light. "That's all you really need to know."

Alexis shifted in her chair away from the box, visibly afraid.

"_Oh my god_," she whispered.

"So the stone, the one that I've…_been in contact with_," I said. "It's in the box?"

"Yes," he said. "I have a vampire friend who owed me a favor. He had to steal a police uniform, though. I suppose you didn't hear about someone from the police force found naked and tied to his bed post in the Springtown hotel. He was unconscious and regretting most of his life decisions, I'm sure. Of course you didn't, there was too much commotion for it to actually make the news."

He looked amused, but the look quickly faded. He paused, unsure if he should say what he wanted to. "Sorry about your dad, by the way."

"You have vampire friends?" I asked a little fearful.

"Don't worry," he said. "I'm on your side."

There was silence again. The light turned green.

"You're not human, are you?" I asked, reaching into my pocket for the vampire pepper spray.

He glanced at me, intrigued.

"My mother always said vampires will never make deals with humans and keep them."

"It shocks me how clever you are, and yet you still managed to go into dark places with strange men," he smiled at me, and turned back to road. "I'm the rare half-demon, half human. Don't get worked up over it, though. It just happens, you know? In fact, I prefer humans to demons anyway."

"Why would a vampire help you?" I asked

"Well, not every _vampire_ wants to destroy the world," he said. "Some just want to party, buy food from blood banks, and have lots of unprotected sex."

"How does something like this _even_ happen?" Alexis asked. "I mean, why are the vampires doing this _now_?"

"Good question," Mason lifted an eyebrow. "A perfect question to ask your _mother_."

"What does our mother have to do with anything?" I asked, I stopped touching the bottle.

"Why do you think vampires haven't been in the town for seventeen years?" Mason asked. "Things like this always start with a spell. A spell cast by a very powerful witch, over the _whole_ effing town, to make sure no demon could enter."

"A _spell_?" I couldn't believe it.

"Done by an extremely _powerful_ witch," he repeated himself.

"So are you saying our Aunt Willow put a spell over Springtown to make sure nothing evil could get in?" Alexis was as shocked as me.

"_Bingo_," Mason exhaled the smoke out of his nose. The menthol smell was starting to get overwhelming.

"Why wouldn't they tell us about that?" Alexis asked. "Why would they keep that a secret?"

_Because either our mother is an extremely protective parent, or she's hiding something from us._

"That's what I want to know," Mason said.

I sat back in my seat, my head pulsing with all the new information. How could this be? What was going on? What were they keeping from us?

I thought about what Jefferson said about the stone wanting me dead. That it couldn't control me like it could the other Empaths. My heart felt like it was about to stop. I felt the color leave my cheeks. The realization of truth started to rise up in me; the talk about the Egyptian goddess who seemed to look at me as if…_No,_ _This is fucking impossible._

"Am I-" I started trembling. I could feel the tears well up in my eyes. "I'm a little more than just one of those _freaks_ who can communicate with the stones, aren't I?"

We stopped at a red light. Mason looked at me for a second, his face expressionless as it normally was. He didn't say anything. He turned away, again looking at the road. The light had turned green at the intersection. I continued to stare at him, wanting him desperately to lie to me as he started to drive off.

_Do I hear sirens?_

"Holy shit," he yelled.

I saw the blinding light in the corner of my eye. I heard the collision, the metal gnashing and grinding together. I felt my body jump forward, gravity seeming to go away. I heard Alexis scream and Mason grunt. Safety Glass shattered around me, slapping me in the face. I smelled gasoline and oil as they shot through the air. The car was flipping. _One. Two. Three. Four. Five…_

I started to hear familiar music, and then I was _asleep_.


	10. Chapter 10: Visions

******Author's Note:** This story is rated T for adult themes, language, strong instances of violence, and graphic, gory details. I do not own Buffy The Vampire Slayer. I just think it's a fun show. Thanks, Sebastian Sebastian!

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

**Visions**

* * *

**SEVENTEEN YEARS EARLIER**

Best friends.

Buffy had _two- _plus a sister, a man she thought of as a father, a husband, and now a coming _baby_. She didn't ever expect to add on another person that she truly cared about. But there Faith was, getting pregnant at the same time she did, asking Buffy to be godmother to each other's child- they were even taking "Jump-Start-Therababy" Lamaze classes together.

It took a while, but Buffy came around to Faith. There was no longer a war, one of the last hell-mouths had finally collapsed, and Buffy was _happier _than she had been in a long time. She was happy to be average, and she knew Faith was too- to not care about upholding humanity and saving the world from eminent destruction. They could wear cocktail dresses, stilettoes, and to do their hair in different fashions, and not in the sensible way that was appropriate for battling the undead- _although, maybe dressing up nicely was more of Buffy's "thing" than Faith's._

Buffy would guess she _loved_ Faith. Maybe it wasn't exactly the kind of sisterly love that Buffy shared for Dawn, but it wasn't shallow—like an obscure sorority sister love-hate relationship. The twenty-six-year-olds were grown up. No longer wearing tight pleather pants, going to clubs, dancing on tables, and breaking hearts—they were going to become _mom-buddies_.

_Alexis Marie Morgan and Oliver Osiris Wood_

But today, Buffy was slightly rethinking their friendship.

She was exhausted after a day of shopping for baby cribs, was annoyed by Faith's obsessive-perfectionism at picking the "right" one. Then, when they finally left the blue-and-yellow-signed-furniture-store, things had turned to the occult when Faith drug Buffy to a seer she had looked up, a "genuine" medium who could supposedly take a glimpse into her child's future. Faith had never been interested in these things before, but having a child changes everything. The future for an unborn child is a scary unknown place, Buffy supposed.

It was muggy out, looked like rain, cars were whizzing by on the busy highway where the woman lived. Buffy stood by her red Sudan staring at the short broken concrete driveway, feeling queasy by the smell of burning trash from the refinery that was located a few miles away. She wouldn't join Faith in this endeavor. It didn't matter, though, the woman had refused to see them, and Faith's old persona seemed to have flickered on. Faith stood there, in front of the door, her face expressing a certain amount of anger.

"Lady, I'm offering you money," she said, throwing a group of crinkled twenty-dollar bills into the home of the old woman.

"I appreciate the sentiment," the woman said kindly, ignoring the money that had scattered over her floor. "But I..."

"Let's go," Buffy ordered, trying to keep Faith out of trouble, feeling her stomach churn, a little weak from her day's activities. The baby was due any day now; she couldn't be running around like this.

The peeling door creaked as the woman started to push it shut, and Buffy couldn't help but to feel pity for her. She must've had no one to help with the upkeep of the crumbling home.

"I just," Faith was no longer angry. She spoke softly, her brown eyes widening in desperation as she stared up from the front steps of the house. "I just need to know. I have a cousin who has these two kids who have this thing… It runs on my dad's side, you know? I don't know what it's called, but it's painful and awful, and I just need to know if my kid is going to be like 'em. I don't want to sound awful or anything, just tell me, will he be alright?"

"I knew you'd come," said the woman, there was a measure of pity in her eyes. "I just think some things are better left unknown, my dear Faith. Wouldn't you agree, _Buffy_?"

Buffy had been thinking about her stomach, but her straying attention was refocused on the old woman in her flower print blouse who was looking right at her. _How'd she know their names?_

"What do you know?" Faith's voice was shaky, placing a hand on a belly that was much larger than Buffy's.

The old woman sighed, "Come in and get some tea."

"Buffy," the old woman called out as faith slipped into the door. "I know you don't want to come in, and that's just fine. But I'd really like it if you wouldn't throw up on my driveway. It looks bad enough, doesn't need pregnancy vomit all over it."

"I'm not going to vomit," Buffy said closing her eyes, swallowing hard, and opening the Sudan door, slipping in and slamming the door shut. She turned the car on, letting the air conditioner soothe her face. She felt better. She just needed to sit down for a bit, but the medium was right about something- Buffy wouldn't go in.

The old woman watched her, smiling a little, while Faith stood behind a bit, looking impatient. Buffy felt relieved for a moment, but soon it faded when she felt the rush of fluid climbing up her esophagus, the rising lumps of vegetarian pizza she had consumed earlier that day. She opened the door with great urgency and—

_My eyes snapped open._


	11. Chapter 11: Conversations With the Dead

**Author's Note:** I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I just really enjoy the story. Rated T for instances of violence, adult language, and adult themes. I know it's risky having original characters and all, but I promise I'm bringing back all of the favorite oldies!

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

**Conversations with the Dead**

* * *

**When I came to,** everything was a vision in a shattered mirror. My mouth tasted bitter and coppery, my arms were bound behind me with what felt like a zip-tie. I felt the tug on my shirt as someone inched me from the road onto wet grass, my exposed flesh scraping against bits of sharp gravel and rock, the back of my shoes carving lines in the damp ground. I tried to speak, but I could only mutter up blood. _Am I hurt?_ Things started to focus and I could see a fire in the middle of the empty intersection- it was the vehicle we were driving in- Mason's car was overturned, almost wrapped around a broken electrical pole and in flames—An ambulance crashed near it, the front smashed in, the windshield broken; smoke was tunneling upward. Live wires crackled and jumped across the EMS.

_Is everyone dead? Alexis. Where is Alexis?_

"Alexis?" I moaned the loudest I could. "ALEXIS?"

"She can't hear you," there were two voices speaking back to me, both were low hisses, speaking in surround sound. It sounded like whoever was dragging me had an accomplice and they had both caught a nasty case of bronchitis, but still strained to speak in their practiced unison.

I jerked my head around to get a look at who had a hold of me, grunted in pain from my whiplash, only to catch a glimpse of a bare arm and pale hand clutched onto the back of my shirt, wearing a wedding ring and something that resembled a hospital bracelet.

_I've seen that ring before._

"Dad?" I kicked the air, hearing my shirt tear a little. The man stopped and dropped me. I lay there on my back for a moment, my breathing staggered, confused as to what just happened.

I got up slowly, unable to use my hands, wincing in pain at all of my injuries, watching the back of the man's head.

He just stood there like a drunk mannequin, swaying a little in a blue hospital gown and NFL pajama pants that looked oddly familiar to the pair I got my father for Christmas two years before. His hair was wild, and he was impossibly pale, but he still looked familiar—like my father. His one arm was in front of him, as if it were in a sling.

_Was that the arm he was shot in? _

"Your able to move," the two straining voices spoke again, sounding as if they were right by my ear. I glanced around to see if there were another assailant, but we were alone. "_Come_."

"Why would I go with you?" I asked.

"Because we'll kill them if you don't."

"Dad," I cried. "You don't have to do this. You can fight it. You've done it before."

"We are not your father, Oliver Morgan," the voices said. "His soul no longer resides here."

"Wha-what?"

"Your father saved his pills. One by one he kept them hidden within his pillow. He didn't want to hurt you. Not one curly black hair on your precious head. He knew we wanted him, that he was important to us- he was the closest thing to you. He thought that taking all those pills would save him from destroying one of the three things he held most precious in the world. Little did he know, he could do more for us dead than _alive_."

I realized I was holding my breath, unable to fully comprehend what was going on. _My father was dead,_ _and voices were speaking to me._

"Turn around," I demanded, wishing my hands weren't bound behind me, but I was still clenching my fists.

Slowly the man obeyed, and upon seeing his face, I started to cry.

He _was_ my father, unshaven, his dead skin gray and wane, but it was _him_. His irises were whitened, and it looked like he had cataracts in his pupils. The voices didn't lie to me—my father was _a corpse_.

A whimper escaped from my mouth, as I fought every urge to run. _He has my sister and Chloe, and I have to save them._

I looked at his folded arm, discovering he was embracing something. He wasn't wearing a sling, as I originally thought, but instead, he was hugging two prism shaped stones, both glowing aqua- emitting something similar to a brightly colored aura that rolled and swirled down, similar to the fog that comes from dry ice. _The stones- he must've found the one in Mason's car._

"_Daddy_?" I stuttered.

_That's not your father anymore, Oliver. He's just a puppet._

He turned back around, away from me, his expression never changing. He continued walking towards the woods.

"Follow us," the voices spoke.

The thing impersonating my father was almost to the woods when I ran after him.

"Why are you doing this?" I pleaded following him into the dark grove, the crunch of dead leaves seeming to become louder and louder. I was tripping over branches, stumbling and falling, without the use of my hands to balance myself. "Why would you do this to my _father_?"

"It's your curse, Oliver Morgan," the voices swirled around me as if they were dancing in some kind of rejoice. "Those who are unfit to protect you will be destroyed. The weakest will always die."

"My _curse_?" I asked.

There was no response. The trees were darkening and swaying in the wind. They seemingly drooped a little at my arrival- as if they were mourning, wailing at the presence of something truly evil. I looked up into the night sky. There wasn't a star in sight, and the full moon had become blood red. Things were getting darker. _That's odd._ A breeze brought the smell of the burning fuel from the cars.

"What do you want from me?"

I could hear a gust of wind ripping through the trees as a reply. I was growing angry.

"ANSWER ME," I screamed.

Suddenly, the wind stopped. The thing that was once my father stood in front of a large group of twisting Oaks, still not responding, not disturbed by my anger.

"He's waiting for you," the voices said.

"Forgive them," a familiar voice called from behind the trees. "They have a tendency to be tight lipped with details."

"Who's there?" I yelled, wobbling through the grove of trees, cursing the fact that my hands were still tied behind my back and stepping out into a clearing. My zombie-father followed behind. I gasped at who I saw ten feet ahead of me.

_Jack?_

"The delicate balance between good and evil has always been a little…_skewed_, Oliver." He said. "But it was always a pretty fair fight. The devils hide in the shadows, and all of God's children bathe in the light. Twenty years ago, your bitch mother, a witch, and a group of potential slayers defied the laws of nature, they fucked with yin and yang again and again- and the balance was disturbed. They literally dug themselves into a hole, and never once did they realize their actions would result in a bigger and _badder_ evil—one that was capable of ripping the souls out of every human being in this silly little world."

"_Jack_?" I could barely talk.

"You're special, Oliver." He said standing in front of me, wearing the same suit I saw him wearing at prom and the funeral. "I always kind of knew that."

I looked around the clearing. Alexis, Chloe, and Mason were somehow suspended in air, floating infront of the twisting trees, their feet dangling a foot from the ground, unconscious and bleeding, forming a half circle around Jack, who stood in the middle. I watched their chests, making sure they were rising and falling steadily. They were still breathing. _How long did they do this?_

"Jack?" I was hyperventilating, and I felt dizzy. I dropped to my knees, and rocked back and forth. "I saw you die. I saw your _head_, Jack. Your head was on my lap."

I closed my eyes, crying hysterically.

_I've gone crazy. I've finally gone crazy. This isn't real. One. Two. Three. Four. Five…_

"Open your eyes, Oliver," He said.

I slowly let them open, and Jack smiled at me, but his smile seemed crooked somehow.

"I would never leave you," he said, not moving a single step. "I know I didn't say it before, but I want you to know, Oliver. I love you."

I stopped crying. _This is really happening, isn't it? _That _wasn't_ Jack. I knew, somehow, that Jack wouldn't just stand there and offer me empty words. He'd comfort me- take me into his arms and kiss me gently. I shook my head. "No." I whispered. "_No_, this isn't right."

The Jack imposter smiled at me again with his crooked smile. The same smile that I had seen at the funeral- _the same smile that sent chills up my spine._

My dead father walked past me and up to Jack, placing the stones by his feet, almost looking like he were doing obeisance. _But to whom?_ The stones were still emitting the glowing blue fog, but the fog was crawling upwards this time, bright and beautiful blue spirals of smoke doing a delicate ballet around my dead boyfriend. I started to hear the music again, but this time the disembodied voices sang—their voices more gorgeous than I could ever imagine. I was mesmerized by the swirling smoke show, as they danced to the prisms' song.

_Release baby, who traveled through murk,_

_Devouring the world of souls and hurt,_

_Ravens watch and they all rejoice_

_For no one's heard the beauty in death's voice._

_Compassion is his cage._

_Compassion is his cage_

_Compassion is his cage_

_Let baby go free._

"_Ollie_, get away from the stones," I heard from behind me, shaking me from my hypnotized state.

I was somehow only inches away from Jack, my zombie father and the stones.


	12. Chapter 12: The First

**Author's Note: **I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I just really enjoy the story. Rated T for instances of violence, adult language, and adult themes.

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

**The First**

* * *

**I swung around,** crashing back away from the stones. I felt a shooting pain in my side that was lingering from the car accident. I must've broken a rib, but adrenaline made me apathetic, my head still racing a series of confused thoughts. _What the hell was going on?_ I looked up, and my eyes widened at the sight, as Buffy stood there ready to battle, Willow eagerly by her, her red hair waving in the wind. Uko and Jefferson stood a little bit behind in their black outfits and carrying guns, Jefferson toting around a large black dufflebag, that he let plop on the ground. I saw the sweat on Uko's brow as he grimaced, trying his hardest not to fall over, while Jefferson promptly bent over and vomited. My aunt had done magic to get their mini militia to us. I quickly stumbled over to them, almost within enough distance to throw myself into my mother's arms, but my zombie father grabbed me, and tried to drag me back to the stones.

I kicked and flailed as Buffy started towards us, but Uko shook off his nausea, cocked the gun and jumped at the dead man, wrestling around with him in the leaves. My undead father bit him hard in the shoulder, ripping Uko's shirt, tearing his flesh and drawing a significant amount of blood. The zombie wouldn't let go of Uko's tender skin. Uko wrestled with the zombie, knowing exactly what he must do. He pointed the pistol to my father's head and…_BAM._

The gun crackled through the air like thunder. The deafening sound soon faded into a certain silence that was a little quieter than it originally had seemed. We all knew exactly what had just happened. My father lay there in the leaves, face down and lifeless…_completely lifeless._

I ran to my mother, sobbing, losing balance and falling into her arms, she caught me and pulled me close.

"_Henry_," my mother whispered, staring at my father's carcass.

"I knew if you had to do that, you wouldn't be able to," Uko grunted, his hand covering the giant chunk missing out of his shoulder, blood trickling out between his fingers. He stood up shaking the leaves off of him, and ignoring the pain. He fumbled around with his belt to pull a out a hunting knife. He walked over, unafraid, glaring at Jack whose facial expression had never changed throughout the scuffle. Uko panted, as he cut me loose, and moved back next to Jefferson, who gained his composure enough to study his partner's wounds.

I rubbed my wrists together, feeling them itch in relief, and hugged my mother again. I was glad to have her.

"And he's _dead…again_," Jack said. "Though sadly, I didn't do it. I'd love to kill something of yours, Buffy Summers-_Morgan_. On the plus side, at least now he's more your type- you know, _without_ a pulse. You didn't really love him, did you, Buffy? I don't see how you could. Sure, he was sweet and the safest choice for someone who wanted to start a family. And look at you; you got a beautiful, shallow, and unconscious daughter out of the deal, and you adopted your best friend's child—who consequently is quickly turning out to be Rosemary's Baby. But _Henry_? _Really_? He was plain as white bread, and I know you'd prefer something a little more…_dark, _to say the least."

Buffy swallowed hard, her face looking like it were made of stone. She knew there would be time to cry later.

"The First Evil," Buffy gulped.

"Miss me?" the imposter Jack giggled menacingly.

"_Alexis_," Willow gasped, noticing my sister, Mason and Chloe unconscious and tied to the trees.

Willow mumbled something in another language, and threw her hands into the air. I watched as the three settled safely onto the leaves. I could hear Mason groan. He was awake.

"I see you're still practicing your…_magic_, Willow," I heard my mother say, but the woman whom I clung to…her lips never moved. Slowly, I turned to face the stones and found that Jack was no longer standing there, but instead, it was my mother, a slightly younger version of herself- her hair long and blond, wearing a pair of blood-stained jeans and a beige jacket covering a white shirt stained red at the torso, a cut glistening with fresh blood on her forehead. _What the hell…_

"I'd be careful if I were you," my imposter mother looked at Willow and smirked. "One false move and all the Glinda the Good Witch bullshit could go broom-riding into the night."

"I'll take my chances," Willow snapped.

"Of course you will, dear."

"What dealings do you have with the stones?" Buffy asked.

"What dealings do _you_ have with the stones?" said imposter Buffy staring at me. "It looks like you're harboring much more than a useless _key_ these days. Is that what you do now? Protect all the little whiney weaklings who are too inept to live? I mean, _Dawn_ was one thing, but this little-"

"What could you possibly want from us?" Buffy stopped her evil twin from speaking. "You _lost_. Get over it."

"Remember what you told me all those years ago in Sunnydale, when you crashed my little party, and had one of your love-sick lap-dogs destroy my _favorite_ Hell-mouth?"

Buffy didn't say anything.

"You said to me 'I want you to get out of my _face_,'" the First Evil mimicked a virtuous high-pitched voice. "And now it's _my_ turn. Funny how things go full circle like that."

"You'll never win," Willow said, stepping forward, leaves started to fly wildly around her, her hands clenched in fists.

"Calm down," The First said. "I don't think you're playing with a full deck here. I'm the First Evil-The Devil-whatever you want to call me. Your magic will do nothing to me, except piss me off, and I'm almost positive you're not ready for that." The first quickly changed into a woman with dirty blond hair, wearing a purple sweater, a blood spot on her chest.

The leaves stopped and Willow looked as if she were biting back tears. "You think your mind games will work on us? We _know_ you."

"You don't _know_ me," the blond woman assured her, "But I sure as fuck have been watching you from infancy. I know your weaknesses and I know your strengths. I know that you put a spell on little naive Oliver so you know exactly where he is at all times. I know you didn't do it because you don't trust him, but you did it because you knew that under his sweet, harmless, somewhat loserish exterior—he's capable of the greatest evil."

"Shut up," Willow cried.

"I also know that you casted another spell, Willow; a very powerful spell that has kept demons out of this town for nearly twenty years. _Twenty years._ That's why the Nephilim over there, hasn't been able to find and destroy Oliver sooner."

I glanced over to Mason who looked at me, his eyes wide and expressing a measure of sorrow.

"I'm—I'm evil?" I whispered.

"Oliver, don't listen to it," Buffy ordered.

The First turned into my father this time, his eyes warm and alive once more, my heart sunk to realize it wasn't really him "They've always lied to you, Oliver. The only reason you're even in existence is because of them. You see, the worlds have a delicate balance, a spiritual eco-system—if you will. I know I've explained to you earlier and forgive me for being long-winded, but this is story you _want_ to hear."

In a blink of an eye, the First was in front of me, inches from my face, but this time it wasn't my father. It had turned into a woman with long wavy dark hair, and large hazel eyes. She looked tough in her leather jacket and dark maroon lipstick. I recognized her from pictures, and I instantly felt a little dizzy. I wanted to run behind Buffy, but I wouldn't. The First had turned into Faith… my biological mother. When she spoke her voice was raspy, warm and cool, every word danced in my ears.

"A very long time ago, this Earth was given to the demons. We ruled over the fearful humans with an iron fist. To us, humans were nothing but toys, sustenance…_trifles _to be played with and discarded. Of course, some of our kind messed around, fell in love with humans and decided to give them their abilities, while others were quickly overpowered and captured by more aggressive tribes who did magic to steal the demon's powers. This created _despicable_ hybrids—did you know the first human-hybrid vampire's name was Lillith? She was a _bitch_. Now here's where things get a little…strange. Slayers, like your mothers, were always taught that a group of powerful tribesmen were responsible for giving a young tribes-girl the ability to fight demons. While this is true, there were clearly _others_ involved." The First wearing it's Faith suit, pointed up in the sky, pouting her lips in disappointment.

"The Big Guy Upstairs seemed to think we were abusing our powers. He decided that since we were so wasteful of the human form, there needed to be a _buffer_. No pun intended, B."

"What does this have to do with me?" I asked, wondering why I couldn't feel hot breath on my face, as Faith stood so close to me.

"I'm getting to that," The First rolled its eyes.

"Can you hurry this along?" Uko growled. He was sweating pretty bad, and looked a bit weak.

"Impatient children never learn their damn lesson," Evil Faith shook her head disapprovingly, and to me she said sweetly. "Every dimension has Gods, did you know that?"

I shook my head like a scared child, "Yes."

"Hell has hundreds," The First laughed.

"Are you one?" I asked.

Imposter Faith smiled at me, "You could say that."

"What do I have to do with these stones?" I asked, my voice quivering.

"When Buffy and her Scooby gang changed the balance of the world—when the humans gained the upper hand, it allowed for a rift to form in the fabric of the dimensions. There had to be a restoration of the balance, and as a result, something very old and very dangerous was allowed to escape into this world. Remember the stone's song,

_Release baby, who traveled through murk,_

_Devouring the world of souls and hurt,_

_Ravens watch and they all rejoice_

_For no one's heard the beauty in death's voice._

_Compassion is his cage._

_Compassion is his cage_

_Compassion is his cage_

_Let baby go free"_

The stones started to sing the song again, the blue fog still spiraling around where I had first saw Jack.

"Who is _baby_?" I was barely able to get the words out.

The First laughed, "You mean, _Babi_."

"_Babi_," Jefferson gasped, digging around in his bookbag, and pulling out the book written by Dr. Flint Hutton. He thumbed through the pages, until he found a certain bookmarked page. Jefferson skimmed through and turned pale. He dropped it. I thought he was going to throw up again. "_Oh my god. _I-I didn't see this before_."_ He stuttered.

Willow picked up the book, and read. She shook her head in disbelief, tears falling from her eyes "No, this can't be right."

"Will?" Buffy asked, taking the book from her.

I intercepted the book first, my eyes adjusto to the font in the dark.

* * *

**Weaved Webs: The Personification of Ancient Gods **

**by Dr. Flint Hutton**

…which is what we know as the Grim Reaper today. If we were to move a little lower, sailing southward through the Mediterranean and into Northern Africa, we would find a very similar deathly deity.

It is noted that the Egyptian god, Babi or Baba, is often shown as the deification of the baboon, a fierce and dangerous animal that's common in ancient Egypt. He is the first-born son of Osiris and is considered a deity of the underworld. He was often described as fiercely aggressive and bloodthirsty and, as a result, was known as the devourer of souls.

In the ancient myth, it is said Osiris casted his son to the underworld, as a way to keep him from destroying the Earth. Osiris was disappointed that he had failed to teach the child compassion, and made it so the only way Babi could be released from the underworld is if the balance of the worlds collapsed. Even then, Babi wouldn't be allowed to rise from the underworld without being "bound in chains," and could only use his destructive powers when united with his sister, Ammit, whom, also due to her "bad behavior" Osiris had cursed her spirit to three magical stones (SEE STONES OF THE UNDER REALM. pg 239.)

* * *

"What the hell does this mean?" I asked, dropping the book into the leaves, tears streaming from my face.

"Compassion is his _chains_, Oliver," Evil Faith smiled. "Do you ever wonder why you're such a pathetic and weak soul?"

"I'm…" I couldn't finish the words.

"No," Buffy gasped when her eyes met the script.

"I'm human," I started to cry. "I'm a _fucking_ human."

"Want to know why your real mother and father had to die, Oliver?" Imposter Faith asked, walking back to the stones. "The weakest around you will always die. The ones who _love_ you will die. It's your curse, but it's not from Evil." She pointed up again. "As one more pathetic attempt to save the human race, _He_ made sure to give you to someone who wouldn't love you, Oliver. He gave you to someone who would have no problem destroying you when the time came. You see, Oliver, Buffy's incapable of _love_." The First turned into a man this time, with platinum hair, and a leather trench coat.

"STOP THIS," I screamed at the top of my lungs. "STOP LYING TO ME, YOU'RE A LIAR. YOU'RE THE DEVIL THAT'S WHAT YOU DO. THAT'S ALL YOU KNOW HOW TO DO."

I threw myself to the ground, as the blond man smiled.

"I'm sorry, Ollie," he said in his British accent. "There's really nothing you can do. As long as the vampires and the stones are after you, everyone you love and this world are _dead_. We'll be seeing you around, mates." And with that, the stones erupted into bright blue flame and disappeared, The First along with them.

We all stood there, unable to talk or move. The stars had come out again, the moon was high, large and white in the sky. The trees were still, and silence was closing in on us.

...No one noticed the slight blue smoke rising from Uko's wound until he collapsed, convulsing on the ground as if he were having a seizure.

"Uko," Jefferson ran to help his friend up, but it was too late. Uko had stopped convulsing. Jefferson felt his pulse, hung his head in sadness, and sighed. "He's dead."

"What just happened? Why is everyone here? Where are _we_?" Alexis asked rubbing her head, as Mason helped up both her and Chloe.

"Stay away from him," I screamed, growing angry, running towards Mason, my hands balled into a fist. "YOU KNEW. YOU SAVED US, AND ALL THIS TIME YOU KNEW. YOU HAD THE CHANCE TO TELL ME AND YOU WOULDN'T!"

I wanted to strike him. I wanted to kill him. I wanted my soul snatching powers to go into effect and take Mason out, but he didn't react.

"I'm so sorry," Mason said calmly, letting me punch him once, before grabbing me and pulling me into a bear hug. "I'm sorry for _everything_."

I kicked and I screamed, aggravating my broken rib, trying my hardest to tap into some kind of deity-like super human strength, but Mason was much too strong. I stopped fighting, listening to the steady beating of his chest, feeling the warmth of his body. I cried.

"We could leave," Buffy said. "Will, you can do your spell over again, and we can go somewhere else. We can change our names, we'll be safer that way."

"Buffy," Jefferson whispered. "We can't-"

"Don't say it."

There was more silence, and I finally pushed myself away from Mason, my eyes bloodshot and heavy. I started towards my mother, Willow and Jefferson; my head hung low, while my sister, Chloe and Mason following behind. _Where do we go from here?_ That's when I saw Uko's body twitch. I saw his eyes open, revealing white irises. I stopped.

"Guys," I whispered. "I don't think Uko's dead."

Uko shot up from the ground, lunging at Jefferson, who wrestled the zombie into the leaves. Uko was on top of Jefferson, his mouth open, trying his hardest to take a bite, but Jefferson fought with all his might, straining to reach his gun. Jefferson's finger slipped and there was a misfire. Everything happened so quickly, but I thought I could see the bullet, flying through the air, directing itself towards the middle of my forehead. I opened my mouth to scream, but before I could utter a cacophonic note, I felt a sharp pain in my brain, I saw a bit of red splatter my sister. She flinched as the warm liquid hit her face. I tried to reach out to her to see if she were ok, but I forgot how to walk somehow and fell.

... and everything turned black once more.


	13. Chapter 13: Faith

**Author's Note: **I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I just really enjoy the story. Rated T for instances of violence, adult language, and adult themes.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Faith**

* * *

**Faith** sat in the kitchen of the tiny home, noticing the flower print wallpaper that was starting to peel from the panels and the old dusty shelves that cute ceramic cats sat upon. Ceramic cats were _everywhere_.

"_So_," the old woman said. She sat a mug equipped with a waiting teabag by Faith and poured hot water in. "Why'd you come here?"

"Look lady," Faith said. "I know what you were doing out there in the driveway."

"Out there in my driveway?" the woman raised an eyebrow, settling down in her chair.

"You saw that Buffy was going to blow chunks," Faith sat back, rubbing her pregnant belly. "It's a smart little trick, but Buffy was looking sick to begin with. She was bound to puke."

"If you're such an unbeliever," the old woman said, "then why are you here, Faith?"

"I'm having a baby. Just want to make sure things are going to go okay…with raising him. I didn't have the best childhood, and I…I just want to know if I'll be an okay parent."

"What are you going to name him?" the woman asked.

"Oliver Osiris Wood," Faith said. "Robin is set on that name for some reason."

"And all you want to know is if you were going to be a fit parent?" the woman took a sip of her tea, sitting back in the chair, smiling, while Faith shook her head.

"Aren't you going to look at my palm or something, take a locket of hair, or make me bleed into a shallow bowl?"

"I'm not a _witch_, Faith. You've been having strange dreams, haven't you?"

Faith looked at her defensively, "And if I have?"

"A slayer's dreams are quite _prophetic_, and I'm sure you already knew that. Your intuition is part of your abilities."

"So that dream where I'm in an ocean of money, skinny dipping Scrooge-McDuck-style, it's going to happen, right lady?" Faith's words dripped with sarcasm.

"Your sarcastic defense mechanism is just one of your many endearing qualities," the woman said, smirking. She set her mug down. "Now tell me about the dreams."

Faith parted her lips, unsure if she should say anything. Why was she there? She should turn around and leave, jump into Buffy's car and tell her to speed off, but she didn't.

"The dream is always a bit fuzzy," she started. "It's a sunny day and I'm walking in the mountains with my husband. I guess we're in the Grand Canyon or something, because besides the blue sky and a few trees, the dirt and mountains are quite orange. The wind is blowing my hair, and I have to hold down the bottom of this white dress I'm wearing, like the kind you wear on Easter. At that moment, I feel like Marilyn Monroe, just not as sexy and with a large pregnancy belly. I'm happy. I guess, to put it in better words, I just feel…_free_. I stop walking, and look around, and my husband is gone, but I'm not worried. I see a human skull, and I think-_no_-I _know_ it's _him_, and there's this beautiful, large blue and pink flower growing out of the cranium. It's by this river. The river's calm at first, and everything is normal, but when I look again…it's not an ordinary river. It's blood, and it starts to rage and surge. Bloods rushing, crashing along rocks, and I just stare at it, wondering what's going on…and then I look down. There's blood on my dress, and my baby's _missing_."

Faith started to tear up. _You're being ridiculous. It's just a dream._

"Go on, Faith, tell me more," said the woman; she was leaning over the table, intrigued.

"I look across the river and I see Buffy. She's standing there, looking solemn, holding the hand of a little girl and my baby is on the other side of her, holding her hand, except he's a toddler—they're both around the ages of one and two. Both of the children are in diapers, the little girl has angelic green eyes and blond hair, and my son has these adorable black locks and these big, sweet brown eyes, and he's smiling innocently…_but_…he's covered...he's covered in _blood_. I knew, when I saw him, he had made the river run red. It was _his_ fault that had happened. When I see the three of them, bodies start floating down the river, some of them are naked-young and old. Some are in police uniforms and their dead bodies are gripping their guns, as if they died in battle...and my child starts to cry, and Buffy says something to me, but I just don't know what it is. I can never hear it. That's when I wake up."

"That sounds like quite the dream, Faith," the old woman said.

"So what does it mean, lady?" Faith asked, staring nervously.

"You're afraid your son is capable of great evils, aren't you?" the woman asked.

"Is he?"

"Aren't we all?"

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" Faith was unusually calm.

The woman looked at Faith with intensity and said, "I _can't_ tell you."

"Why not?"

"You already know the answer," the woman looked at her tea.

"But _why_?" Faith asked, choked up.

"The universe has checks and balances," the woman said. "Sometimes things seem unfair, but there's really a bigger picture that escapes almost _everyone_."

"He won't be completely evil, will he?"

"No one really is," the old woman spoke softly. "But Faith, I think you have another question. I think there's something else bothering you about this dream."

"Buffy has my son," Faith said. "She has him because Robin and I…we're not _there_, right?"

The woman nodded, "I'm sorry."

"How does it happen? How do we-"

"You know I can't tell you that."

"Is there anyway we can stop it?" Faith was growing desperate. _This was a bad idea._

"Your fate is in the stars. It always has been. You said you felt at peace in your dream, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did," Faith whispered. "Do you know what Buffy was saying to me, I mean, in my dream?"

The old woman smiled with pity, "If I tell you," she said. "You have to promise me you will never speak these words to Buffy out loud. She cannot know about what I'm telling you. There is no fighting it, Faith, and even my powers do no allow me to see the final outcome. You must agree to this. Do you agree?"

Faith nodded. "I won't tell."

The woman closed her dark almond colored eyes. The room felt cold, as if it were suddenly somehow changing. Faith stared, scared and shocked, when the woman's eyes fluttered open and they were somehow green. The old lady spoke, her own voice seemingly stolen from Buffy.

"Don't be sad, things will melt away as they should. You are the lucky one. This curse will forever be my grave."


	14. Chapter 14: Mortal Wounds

**Author's Note: **This story is rated T for language and instances of violence. It has graphic and gory details. I do not own Buffy The Vampire Slayer. I just think it's a fun show.

* * *

**Chapter ****Fourteen**

**Mortal Wounds**

* * *

**It's funny to die. **To watch the world slip away in the blink of an eye. One second I'm there, participating in some great horrible moment, and the next I'm gone. Knowing nothing of the world. I didn't feel pain, or sorrow, regret or worry. I was _numb_. Everything was black. There was no light at the end of a tunnel for me, or golden gates seated on a pearly cloud, no harps, or hunky angels floating about—no nothing. _Maybe that's because I was never meant for heaven._

Sometimes I have these nightmares of what happened, a vivid reenactment of the moments following my death.

I lay there, bits of pink and deep red splattered against one of the twisty oaks, although in the darkness, the blood seems to be black. It's weird to think that it all belongs to me.

Alexis stood there in shock, covered in my scarlet life, Jefferson stood over Uko's body, trembling, holding his pistol, and pointing it to the dead man's head. The gun was still smoldering.

Buffy dropped to her knees next to a weak Willow, weeping bitterly, while Willow sat wide-eyed in disbelief.

"_No_," Willow whispered over and over, each time the words becoming louder and more tremulous.

My father's lifeless body lay face down, his head buried in the blackened leaves.

Chloe, who had been silent the whole time, registered the scene quickly. She started to scream. She screamed louder than anyone of them had ever heard someone scream before. It was as if the night's events had finally caught up to her.

Mason rushed over to her, "Don't look, don't look," he pleaded, holding her close. She stopped screaming and started sobbing. He must've been really good at that.

"We have to get out of here," Jefferson finally said.

"We can't leave them," Buffy whispered.

"I'm sorry but we must."

"We're not leaving them," Buffy said again, reaching out to her dead husband.

"What if they reanimate again and bite one of us?" Jefferson said moving closer to her and placing a hand on her shoulder, while still watching the bodies. "You saw what happened to Uko. What if the police come? I'm sorry, but we have to _think_, Buffy. The stones disappeared, we know absolutely nothing about them, except what's written in this horrible book. They're more powerful than ever now-"

"WE'RE NOT LEAVING THEM," Buffy jumped up and swung around, grabbing Jefferson by the throat, crushing his air-pipe and lifting him up in the air. She'd be lying if she said she wanted him to live at that moment.

"_Mom_?" Alexis said weakly. "Mommy?"

Buffy, realizing what she was doing, dropped Jefferson. He let out a rough cough as he struggled for air. She swung around, her eyesight blurry with tears, and ran over to her daughter, hugging her tightly, ignoring the blood. "I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so _sorry_."

It was then the bright white fog started to rise from the hole in my head. Unnoticed by the others at first, it slithered its way out like a garden snake, spiraling its way down my corpse.

Alexis noticed it first. "Mom," she gasped, pointing at my corpse.

Buffy looked over, staring at the glowing white cloud that was rising out of my body. The blood started floating off of Alexis's shirt and face. Alexis placed her hand on her cheek. It was dry.

Droplets of blood floated in the air, dancing around, the fluid on the tree joining it, intermingling with each other, waltzing to an unheard symphony. The missing bits of my brain raced back into the hole in my head, my hair growing back into thick black curls.

"What the-" Jefferson whispered, as the light reflecting off his glasses.

The white fog was swirling again, brighter than the stones, frolicking around my body as it stood me up, illuminating the trees around, the blood flowing back into my carcass through my head wound. I was floating a few feet off the ground, my body twitching violently. My eyes snapped open, revealing glowing white eyes.

"Oliver?" Buffy said, stepping cautiously towards me.

I'm not exactly who was looking at her, but it wasn't me.

It's gaze was cold and all anyone could feel emanating from it was overwhelming hatred. Whatever was in me wanted nothing more than to kill my mother, and it could with just a flick of its mighty hand. Something in me reached out to her, ready to steal her soul, the power surging from out of its fingertips.

But as quickly as the neon glow came—all went dark.

My body crashed to the ground, everyone standing around me, confused and horrified.

* * *

"What if it's not him?" I heard Willow whisper. "What if he wakes up and it's not him?"

"It will be," Buffy assured her. "He's had no contact with the stones. He's still Oliver."

"But did you see him out there?"

"_Willow_," Buffy hushed her.

"She has a point," Jefferson said.

"Jefferson, I think it would be in your best interest to keep your nose clean of this one." I heard my grandfather say.

When I opened my eyes from the "dream," I was laying on the couch, my mother and grandfather hovering over me in silence. Jefferson was giving Alexis stitches, a hand-sized bruise forming around his neck, mumbling how he could've taken care of Chloe and she didn't need to go to the hospital. Willow stood in the doorway between the dining room and the living room, looking worried. Mason sat at the dining room table, resting his head in his hands in perplex thought. My mother reluctantly tried to hug me, but I pushed her away. I felt my forehead, making sure there was no hole. My skin felt softer than before.

"What happened?" I asked.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at me. They were frightened.

"Oliver, I-" my mom started.

"You've lied to me all this time," I said. "You and Willow both."

"Oliver, there's a perfectly reasonable explanation why your mother did what she did," Giles offered.

"So I wouldn't know that I'm some kind of school-book definition of _evil_?" I asked indignantly.

"We didn't know what you..." Willow said. "We knew _something_...we just didn't know."

"And if you knew?" I jumped up. "If you knew exactly what I was- what would you have done?"

"Whatever we had to do," Buffy said. She wouldn't look at me.

_Translation: I would've drowned you in the bath._

Everyone was silent, and I sat back down. _Was The First right? Is my mother incapable of love? _

I will admit, a part of me was relieved. If I wasn't loved... everyone I cared about, who survived this mess, seemed ok. Everyone who didn't _die_ because of _me_ seemed to be doing just fine, although they were traumatized, bruised, and broken. Who could blame them for hating me?

It was around three in the morning when my family finally fell into uneasy sleep. I lay in my bed, fully clothed, a book bag tucked next to me, waiting to hear my mother and Willow slip upstairs. Their spoons were clinking in their teacups. Chamomile tea. The women were whispering to each other solemn things. When I heard their door shut, I slipped out of bed, and through the window and called a cab. The driver must've thought I was a drunken college student calling at such an hour.

I stood there for a while, on the grass of the backyard, looking at the old tire swing, the wind pushing it again. I could smell menthols in the air.

"Where are you going?" Mason asked, coming from around the corner, bandaged up, smoking a cigarette.

"Where do you think I'm going?" I said, the book back slung over my shoulder.

"You're running away?" he asked.

"Don't try to stop me," I sighed.

"I don't think you can run from this," he said.

"Well, I can't stay here," my voice quivered. "I can't be the reason everyone I love dies."

"What if the Bellatores Simia finds you?"

"They won't, Mason. I'll make sure of that."

"I'll come with you," he said, taking another puff.

"No."

He didn't say anything else.

"Why did The First call you a Nephilim?" I was curious.

"Because, that's what I am, I guess." Mason said. "You know, I do everything bad for me—I smoke, drink, eat fast foods- and it really does nothing to me. I guess that's the perk when your father is an angel and your mother is human."

_If only we were all so lucky._

"So I guess heaven _is_ real," I said.

"I've never met my father, so it's still pretty questionable," Mason joked.

"But you were told to kill me?"

"My mother sent me away when I was very young. There's a place for people like me… a temple. A safe haven. There, I was taught to use my abilities, to use whatever angelic powers I had been gifted for the good of others. The prophets knew of Babi. They knew that the balance was going to be changed, but they didn't tell me…they didn't tell me I'd have to destroy…" he stopped talking, and looked uncomfortable.

"Why didn't you kill me?" I asked.

"What?"

"If you were supposed to kill me, why did you save me from the vampires? Why did you get the one stone for us? Why are you helping us?"

"I-" he looked away from me for a bit. "I was going to…kill you. I was going to end it tonight, as soon as I got into this stupid town, but when I saw you at the movie theater…you just seemed like a normal person; like a teenager trying to make sense of the world. You were laughing and giggling with your friends, going on a date—being young. I was expecting something to be off, something to be different, but…"

"I'm not different," I finished. "I'm your average, helpless human-being."

"You're not as helpless as you might think," Mason said. "I mean, you can't die...by bullets, _anyway_."

We looked at each other for the longest time, not saying a word. I sighed.

"I should go now," I whispered and started to turn around.

Mason grabbed my arm lightly, swinging me back.

"You take care of yourself, ok?" he said.

I forced a smile, "I will."

"You know I'll find you," he said. "Eventually, I'll have to find you."

"When the time comes," I said. "I'll be ready."

He let go of my arm, and I started away, walking through the side lawn, and into the darkness. The streetlights had turned off. I was uneasy, but I could see the cab, a block away, idling for me.

"Make sure Chloe's ok," I yelled back at the house, hoping Mason would hear me. I don't know if he did. I had to get out of that town as quickly as possible...

* * *

Aunt Dawn, I didn't know who else to tell this to, and I'm sorry if it's a bit…_candid_.

I thought, maybe, you'd be able to relate.

I know you already knew most of these things—I know mom talks to you almost daily, but I just wanted to let you know that I'm okay. That's all I wanted. I wanted you to know the story from my perspective, so you'd understand exactly why I did what I did. I didn't run away because I felt unprotected.

I just can't put anyone else's life in danger.

Despite what my family might feel, I'm capable of a great evil. I'm responsible for my father's death. I'm responsible for Uko, Jack, and all the other kids who died at prom.

This is why I've decided to disappear.

I paid some witches a very expensive fee to undo the locator spell that Aunt Willow put on me. It was pretty hard for them, especially since such a powerful witch did it in the first place, but I think their efforts worked. No one's come knocking on my apartment door just yet. However, that may be because you're all afraid of me.

I'm working too, Aunt Dawn. I'm sorry I didn't say that earlier. It's not exactly the nicest job in the world, but I pay my bills and haven't missed rent...yet.

I'm officially eighteen now. I bought a book to celebrate—Animal Farm by George Orwell. I don't have cable, so I have to find entertainment somehow. I baked cupcakes and wrapped the book for myself, like a loser. I hope you can imagine how silly I looked in my stuffy apartment, alone in a party hat, with a little candle lit, flickering so lonely-like out of one of my lop-sided vanilla cupcakes with strawberry icing. I gave the rest of them to my co-workers, though none of them ate any. They have to watch what they eat, I guess.

I'd tell you where I am, but I…I just think we're all safer this way. I love you very much and think about you constantly. I'll try to write often to fill you in. Please tell my mother I love her. I can't talk to her, not right now. I hope you understand. I'm so sorry for this, I really am. I hope you're doing well.

Love Always,

Ollie

* * *

**End of ACT I**


	15. Chapter 15: The Walk of Shame

**Author's Note:** I hope you enjoyed reading **Act I**. I do NOT own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I just really like the show. This story is rated T due to sexual situations, violence and language. Please do not read if these things offend you, or if you want to remain pure from my horrible mind. To the rest of you sickos, thanks for reading! :-P

* * *

**ACT II**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

**The Walk of Shame**

* * *

She wasn't a drinker.

One or two glasses here and there, but she was never one to "toss 'em back" in a dive bar. Ever since college, alcohol left a lingering stigma, but last night...she needed something.

It had been a few months since her husband had died, since _The First_ revealed itself with a vengeance. It had been approximately 91.3105 days since her sweet son turned out to be…

She needed _something_.

Everything was a blur. She awoke in a haze; her head was pounding- unsure if it were day or night in the darkened room.

An empty bottle of wine was slumped over on the floor by the foot of the bed. A small puddle of maroon stained the beige carpet.

_Shit._

_Where was her bra?_

_There it is. Next to the wine bottle._

The two coral colored padded cups of fabric, sewn together by a thin strip of lace, was almost camouflaged by the carpet, but she could make out the outline that somehow resembled the humps of a camel's back.

Her eyes fixed on the undergarmet, and the shame was inescapable. She wrenched the blankets towards her neck, a Garden-of-Eden-impulse to be sure she was properly covered; though trying to do so was useless. _The damage is done; he has seen everything there is to see._ _All you wanted was a connection to the living._

A large hand, pale and slightly rough softly caressed her face.

_Don't look over._

He was still asleep, lightly snoring next to her, his arm stretching freely to eventually drape over her, his leg hanging limply out of the queen-sized bed.

_F...U...C..._

She looked at him with the upmost regret. Hoping that maybe Willow could cast a spell that would give her the last twenty-four hours back, but if Willow was capable of breaking such universal laws, none of this would have ever happened. Henry would still be alive, Buffy would've found a way to destroy the stones, and Oliver...

What had she done?

_...K_

Jefferson's head was cradled in her armpit now, drooling, slinging his leg back into the sheets to also drape over her body.

Buffy felt chunks rise up in her throat. She was going to be sick.

Delicately, she slipped out of the bed, wrapping herself in the bedsheet, grabbed her unmentionables and snuck out of the room.

Buffy hurried down the stairs, feeling repulsed when she looked over to the couch where Jefferson normally slept. She had reluctantly invited him to drink a glass of wine with her. During their conversation, she found out he wasn't as annoying as she had originally thought, and soon, one glass turned into two, and then a third, a fourth... _then a second bottle..._

How could she have such a lapse of judgement?

She smelled coffee wafting in from the kitchen. She stopped, dropping the bra on the couch.

No one was supposed to be home, besides Jefferson, and she wondered who would be around to let the pleasant aroma fill the room. Buffy tensed, stepping across the carpet and onto the wood floor, ignoring the pounding that made her head feel like rubble. She slowly creeped towards the ceramic tile, cursing the wall for blocking her line of view.

"Hello?" she spoke softly.

"Hey," a familiar head popped out of one side of the opening.

"_Dawn_," Buffy gasped.

"Didn't mean to scare you," Dawn smiled, standing in the opening, taking a sip of coffee from a mug.

"You-you didn't..." Buffy stuttered, trying her best to act casual. "I just didn't know you'd be here so early."

"I called you, but you never answer your phone," Dawn sighed, walking over to hug her sister, but Buffy slipped between her and the door into the kitchen, knowingly avoiding her sister's embrace. She headed towards the fridge. She knew Dawn would smell the lingering wine on her breath, and even worse...she might smell _him_.

"Where is everyone?" Dawn asked.

"Alexis slept over some friend's house."

"Is that necessarily safe?"

"This isn't a _prison_, Dawn," Buffy said. "Besides, everything has been quiet lately. No demons, or vampires, no _nothing_."

"What about Giles?"

"I don't know where he is," Buffy said.

Buffy's head throbbed as the bright sun streamed through the blinds and into her eyes. She closed them.

"He left for England two weeks ago, and I suspect he's doing research or something. He really hasn't stopped reading up on things since...well, you know," Buffy said.

"And what about Will?" Dawn asked.

"She's visiting Kennedy."

"What?" Dawn perked up. "Are they getting back together?"

"I don't know," Buffy sighed. "I really hope they do. I mean, it's been years and neither of them have really moved on."

"I know," Dawn sighed. "Poor Willow, she deserves love."

Buffy pulled out the orange juice from the fridge, and started drinking from the carton, holding up her makeshift dress with her free hand.

"Wait," Dawn finally noticed. "Why are you wearing a bedsheet?"

Buffy almost dropped the OJ.

"What?" she asked, pretending as if she didn't hear.

"You're wearing a _bedsheet_."

"Oh, so I _am_."

"Is there a man here?" Dawn asked, a sly grin spread across her face.

"No," Buffy said.

"_Buffy_..."

"_Dawn_. How is the gallery doing?" Buffy really wanted to chance the subject.

"It's good," Dawn said. "Getting new artist's works in everyday. I hope my assistant, Damon, can handle everything while I'm away."

"You must really like your job. Tell me more about it?" Buffy sat on one of the stools, pretending it was completely normal for someone to wear a bedsheet around the house.

"Hey. I know what you're doing, Buffy. Don't change the subject."

"I _didn't_."

"Who's upstairs?"

"No one, Dawn."

"Don't make me go up there!"

"You'd better not, my room is a mess," Buffy said, hiding her panic.

"Don't be a bitch."

"Nope, _you_ don't be a bitch."

"I, uh, I'm terribly sorry about what happened last-" Jefferson's English accent silenced the bickering sisters.

It was a mistake. He was too hungover to understand that both the girl's were in the kitchen and arguing, and mistook the sounds coming from the kitchen as Buffy's radio.

Buffy stood in horror as he presented himself in the room in his boxers, his naked and white torso exposed for both the women to see.

Dawn's face sunk, her eyes widening as she watched Jefferson's face turn red. "You had sex with Giles' son?" she muttered involuntarily.

"Dawn this is Jefferson," Buffy sighed. "Jefferson this is my horribly annoying sister, _Dawn_."

"_Nice... _to, uh, meet you...Jefferson," Dawn stuttered.

Jefferson nodded, paralyzed in the awkwardness of the situation, folding his arms as the only way to cover any inch of his exposed body.

There was silence until Dawn composed herself, giggled slyly and said, "So who wants some coffee? After sex cigarettes perhaps?"

For a moment Buffy wished the monks had never came to Sunnydale.


End file.
